Infatuation
by realeyesfantasize
Summary: Thirteen years after the 'best night of her life,' Bella has an encounter with her first crush. Let's hope he doesn't affect her the same way he did back then. *Continuation of my entry for the Secrets & Lies Contest*
1. Open House

**This is a continuation of my entry for the Secrets & Lies Contest. The original one-shot has been cut into seventeen chapters to match the new content that will be posted in the coming weeks. **

**Beta:** SunflowerFran

 **Title:** Infatuation

 **Summary:** Thirteen years after the 'best night of her life,' Bella has an encounter with her first crush. Let's hope he doesn't affect her the same way he did back then.

 **Pairing:** Edward/Bella

 **Rating:** M

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

' _Keep it together'_ I tell myself, adjusting my blouse for what must be the thousandth time. _'They're just parents. It's not a big deal.'_

As a first-year teacher, this will be my introduction to the whole 'Open House' thing. I vaguely remember going to a few of these events as a kid, but it has been so long since then that I'm not entirely sure what to expect. Not to mention the fact that I'm now on the other side of the equation. Needless to say, I'm intimidated.

Smoothing my skirt as an excuse to wipe the sweat from my hands, I tuck my hair behind my ears and square my shoulders. _'This is an idyllic position at an immensely sought-after school, and I am highly qualified for it. I have nothing to worry about tonight. This will be a piece of cake.'_

Blowing a puff of air from between my pursed lips, I turn just in time to receive a tackle to the shins from a small person. Stumbling back, I reach down and steady the child against my legs before letting out an exasperated laugh.

"Well, hello, there!" Peering down, I can't help but smile when I see it's one of my more rambunctious students.

"Oh God," A decidedly male voice murmurs urgently. "I'm so sorry! Rose, sweetheart, let your teacher go."

"It's no bother," I sigh, patting little Rosalie's curls. Lips parted in a good-natured smile, I glance up – ready to explain that Rosalie's aggressive hugs are an everyday occurrence – but the words die on my lips.

The sight in front of me is so startling that my body experiences an unexpected jolt. That tiny seizure is followed by a flash of light that blots out my vision. The picture fades, and suddenly I'm no longer standing in my classroom. No – I'm transported back in time.

Back to a simple, easy time.

Back to when it all started.

Back to junior high…


	2. DVR

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 _ **2005**_

" _Did you see?" Angela whispers stealthily as I slide into my spot next to her at lunch. When I merely shrug in response, she sighs impatiently. "You have to have seen it! Everyone has!"_

 _I just tuck into my sandwich as she continues to blab on. "They played it, like, every two hours, Bella! How could you have missed it? It was, like,_ everywhere _."_

" _I just wasn't watching." I shrug, peeling the crust from the bread and scowling. My mom worked a late shift again last night, so I had to hang out at my neighbor's house until she got off. That meant setting the table, taking her yappy dog for a walk,_ and _helping her grandson with his homework, all before doing_ mine _. By the time I was done, the movie was already over. But Angela would never understand. She has fancy tutors to take care of her homework and a DVR as a safety net. It's so easy, being rich._

" _But what's more important than this?" Angela whines, shaking her head and making her springy curls bounce. She's been talking about this Disney Channel original movie ever since she saw the preview weeks ago. Apparently, some boy band she's obsessed with is the star of it. Between babysitting, chores, and homework, I can't find the time or energy to care about things like that. "What's the point in having a best friend if they don't even like the things you like?"_

 _I instantly recognize the forlorn look on her face. Knowing she's just moments from tears, I rush to subdue her. "I do!" I insist, stuffing my sandwich back into its plastic bag. Angela is my only friend, and well, I'm not exactly hungry for stale bread and dry cheese. "Can I come over tonight? I want to watch it with you."_

" _Sure," Angela grins, happy I'm finally showing interest. "I'll call my dad after lunch. I have it on DVR."_

 _My lips pinch together as I nod. This is partially a way to subdue her and also a way to fill my stomach. If my lunch was any indication, dinner is sure to be sorely lacking. Angela's mom always cooks way too much for their family of three, which means I get to take home leftovers. You won't catch me complaining._


	3. Can't Relate

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _The empty pit in my stomach has nearly gnawed through my entire abdomen by the time Angela's mom picks us up from school in her shiny, red, Mercedes SUV._

" _Hi, girls." She chirps, smiling at us through the rearview mirror as she navigates out of the parent loop. "How was school?"_

" _Boring." Angela pops her gum, rolling her eyes at me dramatically. She thinks her mom monopolizes car conversations. I think she actually wants to know how our day went. Angela rolls her eyes and scoffs when I tell her this. She's going through a rebellious phase. I can't relate – I'd never disrespect an adult, especially one as nice as Angela's mom._

" _I made cookies!" Angela's mom calls after us as Angela practically drags me up the stairs to her room._

" _Later!" Angela answers, slamming the door behind us with a bang. "Finally," she sighs, throwing herself down on her bed. "She's just so annoying!"_

" _I think she's nice," I reply, toeing off my shoes before plonking down at the foot of the bed. I wish my mom had time to make cookies. She's always busy, trying to get in extra shifts at the diner. I wish she didn't have to work so hard._

" _Whatever." Angela rolls her eyes, leaning to grab her TV remote from her nightstand. "Come on, I'll put it on now."_

 _I scramble onto the bed, leaning against the headboard as she fiddles with her DVR. Angela's family always has the most up-to-date technology before anyone else. Her dad is a big fan of TV. He even has one in his bathroom._


	4. Alien Abduction

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _Angela whoops when the recording begins to play. I let out a discreet yawn as the opening credits drag on, but close my mouth with an audible snap when a different image fills the screen. The camera focuses on a sullen teenage boy, who peers into the sun with heavy brows._

 _My stomach does an uncomfortable twist at the sight._

 _I let out an unsteady breath as the scene unfolds, hands twisting the blanket underneath me as my eyes take in his stunning appearance. I've never had a crush before. And I've never seen a boy that's as cute as the one on the TV right now. If_ he's _the reason why Angela is so obsessed, I now understand._

" _That's Edward Masen." Angela clarifies, snapping her gum and leaning back on her pillows. "He's the best singer in the group. But, the other three are just as cute as he is. Are you even listening?"_

" _Yes," I reply automatically, eyes glued to the TV._

 _Edward._

 _I roll the name around in my mind as the camera follows his trek through a tree-lined neighborhood and into the front of a school building. It's not a name I've heard before on a guy our age – I've mostly seen grandpas with that name – but it's fitting. Classic – like him. Thoroughly entranced by the movie, I don't even react when Angela nearly falls off the bed with a squeal as the other boys join Edward at school._

 _She's right – they_ are _cute – but Edward is miles more adorable. I can hardly tear my eyes away. We sit and watch the movie together in silence, and when the final credits roll, Angela sighs and stretches her arms over her head in satisfaction._

" _Now do you see what I mean?" She murmurs smugly._

" _I guess," I shrug, portraying nonchalance despite my wildly racing heart. I'm not purposely being aloof. It's just ... I'm at a loss for words. The feelings swirling inside of me are alien, to say the least. It's hard enough for me to comprehend them, let alone voice them to someone else._

 _Angela scowls at my lack of gusto, but gets over it quickly. "I want some cookies," she chirps, popping her gum and rolling off the bed. Standing over me with her hands on her hips, she motions for me to join her. "C'mon, let's go eat before my mom literally_ dies. _"_


	5. Dual Stimulation

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _A week later, I'm rushing to the K-Mart across the street with twenty dollars crumpled up in my fist. I've saved every dollar my neighbor gave me this week – even though I so desperately wanted to spend some on chips at lunch yesterday. But I have goals._

 _My first ever purchase, and the money goes straight to_ him. _To_ Edward.

" _Forks Four?" The cashier says, eyes smiling down at me as she rings me up. "My daughter loves them."_

" _Yeah," I grin, jittery because I can't wait to get that CD into my stereo. If Edward's singing in the movie is any indication, his band's music is going to be life-changing._

" _Enjoy." The cashier murmurs, handing me the bag containing my newest obsession. Hands clammy and perma-smile in place, I clutch the CD to my chest as I duck out of the store. I nearly run home, I'm so excited._

 _My room fills with sound the moment I hit play on my CD player. Belly flat against my scratchy carpet and face cupped in my hand, I eagerly leaf through the little pamphlet that comes with the CD. It's filled with images of the boys. I'm breathless as I examine them all – overwhelmed by the dual stimulation of hearing Edward's voice and seeing his smiling, sometimes pouting, face. He has the most heartbreaking smile._

 _My ears consume the album, digesting every word that falls from Edward's lips. The lyrics are beautiful – magical even – although I'm not sure I fully comprehend the emotions behind them. I roll onto my back as the album repeats for a second time. The notes float around me, creating a cocoon of warmth, happiness, and excited infatuation. If this were a scene in a cartoon, I'd have little hearts swirling around my head._

 _My fingers tremble as they trace his face on the album cover. I know it's a little ridiculous, but … there's nothing I want more than to be the girl Edward's singing about._


	6. Sordid Confession

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _Don't look now." Angela murmurs, eyes wide as she gestures with them to a spot behind me. "But Mike Newton is coming this way."_

" _What?" I scoff, placing my sandwich on the plastic bag it came in just as Mike slides onto the seat beside me._

" _Hey Angie, Bella." He mutters, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leans his folded arms onto the lunch table._

" _Hi, Mike." Angela chirps as she flutters her lashes delicately. I could vomit. Angela turns into such a dimwit around guys. So much so, that she didn't even give him crap about calling her Angie. She hates it when people call her that._

" _What's up?" He mutters around a sly smirk. Girls literally go crazy for that smile, and I don't get it. Maybe it's because I haven't gotten my period yet._

" _Eating." Angela grins before cracking into a carrot stick. Mike's eyes predictably drop to her mouth. I can't help but snort into my carton of chocolate milk._

" _What's funny?" He asks petulantly, rounding on me with a fake pout._

" _None ya." I immediately respond, rolling my eyes as I pick my sandwich up again and take a wolfing bite. He just continues to stare, tongue peeking out between his front teeth. "What?" I bite back, mouth full of ham and cheese._

" _What if I want it to?" He retorts, brows drawn close together as if he's struggling to hold back a fart. Gross – that can't be good for his health._

" _Want it to, what?" Angela inquires, face all slack as if she can't believe what she's hearing._

" _What if I want it to be my business?" Mike's nostrils flare as he spits out his sordid confession. I stare back at him, utterly confused._


	7. Lime Slime

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _What the heck are you trying to say?" My brows rise in alarm as he takes my hand in his instead of answering me. "What do you think you're doing, weirdo?"_

" _Asking you out." He mutters, dropping my hand and putting his to his chest like a physical display of his hurt feelings._

" _I'm sorry, I –" I start, but he cuts me off with a palm in the air._

" _I've liked you since the second grade, Bella." Angela lets out a strangled gasp at his declaration, mouth gaping open like a fish. "I … this is the first time I've had the courage to … to ask you out."_

" _I'm sorry, I just…" I start, falling short in finding an appropriate response to his stilted proposition. How do you tell someone that's_ real _that you can't date them because you're saving yourself for the lead singer of the world's most popular boy band. Yeah … I know … that'll go over so well._

" _I already have a boyfriend." The lie bursts from my mouth like projectile word vomit. Mike's face instantly crumbles. In my imagination, he's sitting there drenched in lime-colored slime – the evidence of my deception. In reality, he tucks his chin to his chest and sighs._

" _Who is it?" His voice is sad and small. I should feel bad for making him feel like this, but I don't. Last year, he kicked a ball into Ben Cheney's face in P.E. so hard it broke his nose. He claimed it was an accident, but never apologized. He sure did laugh about it, though. No – I don't feel bad about lying to Mike. If anything, I feel vindicated. It's this vindication that gives me the gall to keep going._

" _You wouldn't know him." I shrug. "He's not from around here."_

" _Well, then, how'd you meet him?" Mike presses, mouth set into a grim line._

" _Yeah, here I am wondering the same," Angela adds on, lips twisted to the side sourly as she glares at me hotly from across the table. "This is the first I've heard of any_ boyfriend _, Bella."_

" _It's…" I start, fumbling for an explanation. "It's pretty new. He's my cousin's friend. He lives in California."_

" _Ooooh," Angela moans, fanning her face. "A Cali boy? Does he surf? That's_ so _hot! Does he have any friends for me? Brothers?"_

" _Oh, um, yeah, I'll ask him. And … uh, yeah, he surfs, sure." My face must be bright red by now, with all of the questioning and dishonesty. This is the most I've ever lied in my life. I should feel ashamed, but … it actually feels_ great! _I've never felt this exhilarated! Maybe I should start doing it more?_

" _What's his name?" Mike probes, jaw grinding grouchily._

" _Masen." I spit out, feeling the chill of nerves creep into my vision as Angela tilts her head at me curiously._

" _Hm," She hums thoughtfully, tapping a cotton-candy colored nail against her chin. "He sounds hot," she finally chirps, grinning from ear to ear. "You'll have to show me his page on Myspace."_

 _My stomach plummets._

" _He doesn't have one." I rush in, shrugging when her mouth falls open in shock._

" _What is he, a hermit?"_

" _No." I laugh. Worse – he doesn't exist! "He just doesn't care about that stuff. Too busy, uh, surfing."_

" _Cool." Angela grins._

 _I let out a harsh breath of relief as she backs off. Thank God, that's over. That was simultaneously the most stressful and exciting moment of my life. I think I can go on living without lying again._


	8. Phlegm

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _You know what I said about not lying ever again? Yeah, well, that didn't go as planned._

" _I heard you have a boyfriend." Lauren Mallory drones in her slow, nasally voice. I'd never met someone that actively tries to sound dumb until Lauren moved here last year._

" _Yeah." I shrug, not bothering to look up from my math book._

" _I heard he lives in California." Lauren continues, voice now guttural as well as nasal. I don't know how she does it. She must produce a lot of phlegm, snorting all that snot into the back of her throat. The thought alone has me gagging._

" _He does." I clarify, working through an equation easily._

" _Where in California is he from?" She probes, leaning her weight onto her palm, which she settles on the edge of my desk. "Can I copy that after you're done?"_

" _Uh," My mind flounders for a proper response. I know Sacramento is the capital, so that's too obvious. So is Los Angeles. "Laguna Beach." I blurt, face flaming when I realize I've just given her the most obvious of answers. Everyone loves that show on MTV. The only people who live there are like … beautiful millionaires. Why would any of them be interested in me – plain, Midwest, Bella Swan?_

 _The urge to vomit intensifies._

" _Really?" Lauren says, emphasizing the vowels as her brows lift dramatically. "What school does he go to?"_

 _If I wasn't screwed before, I am now. Lip trapped between my teeth, I take a deep breath before unloading another fib. "He's homeschooled."_

" _Weird." Lauren scowls. "He surfs?"_

" _Yeah," I mutter, swallowing as the deceit piles up. I mean, why stop now? "All the time."_

" _Wow," she smiles, eyes glinting sinisterly despite the pleasant set to her mouth. "You're so lucky."_

" _I guess," I shrug. "It's still pretty new. We'll see if it lasts."_

 _I want to stage a breakup tomorrow, but then Mike will be back on me like white on rice. I need to milk this for as long as I can. Well, at least until Mike gets over his weird little crush._ Then _I can put an end to this farce of a relationship._

 _I just hope I can keep up with this little story I have going._


	9. Phone Dates

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _Having a boyfriend is great. Albeit, a fake one._

 _My favorite thing is using him as an excuse to skip out on activities that Angela would normally force me to attend._

" _Spa day?" She asked last Friday._

" _Um, well…" I started, and Angela immediately let out a dramatic sigh._

" _It's Masen, isn't it?"_

" _I'm sorry." I rush to apologize, feeling immediately guilty for ditching her to talk on the phone with my fake boyfriend. "We just … don't get much time to talk. I mean, with all of his –"_

" _Surfing!" Angela finishes my sentence with a growl. "Yeah, I know. He's pretty much perfect – don't rub it in."_

" _Sheesh," I mutter dejectedly. "If you want me to cancel our phone date so I can go with you to the spa, I will. I just hate when you get like this."_

" _No," she scowls. "No, I know how much your weekend talks with him mean to you." She sighs, fisting the springy curls at her temples. "I'm sorry. I'm the worst. Forgive me?"_

" _Always." I smile, mentally picturing what her reaction would be if she knew the truth about Masen. Little does she know, my 'weekend talks' consist of me face down on my carpet singing along to Forks Four and fantasizing about my fake boyfriend,_ Edward _Masen._

 _I'm sick._


	10. Pee Pants

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

 _Forks Four released a new album. So, naturally, I blow all my savings buying it. I immediately put the CD into my stereo the moment I get home and throw myself across my bed. Head sufficiently cushioned by pillows, I examine the CD case – and all the new band pictures – as the first song loads._

 _The plastic slips from my fingers as the song begins, sending the CD case ricocheting off my face and onto the bed beside my head. My mouth falls open in alarm as the music flows over me, filling my head with fuzziness and my belly with warmth._

 _The song is by far the most pop-sounding song the band has released. Yet it is instantly my favorite. It's the … lyrics that get me. And the way they're delivered. I'm hypnotized as Edward practically growls the words, voice doing things to my body that I've never felt before._

 _If you want it to be good, girl,_

 _Get yourself a …_

 _Bad boy!_

 _My chest heaves as the chorus continues._

 _If you really want it good, girl,_

 _Get yourself a …_

 _Bad boy!_

 _Something about how he growls through the chorus has me squirming on my bed; eyes clenched shut against the heat that suddenly flares up_ everywhere. _What the heck is wrong with me?_

 _I'm breathless by the time the song is over, and I nearly trip over my own feet as I scramble across the room to skip the CD back to that song. CD sleeve clenched in my fist, I practically drool over the shot of a shirtless Edward that sits right next to the lyrics of this song._

 _My eyes close as the song slows, dipping into the most enthralling part. My lip disappears between my teeth as I imagine Edward standing in front of me, shirtless and snarling as he murmurs the next lyrics right to me._

 _These are things … your mama shouldn't know._

 _My thighs clench together as imaginary Edward takes a step forward and trails his hand down my arm. Goosebumps form on my real-life arm as my chest heaves._

 _These are things … I really wanna show_.

 _Heat blooms in my lower belly as imaginary Edward's hand stops at my wrist. His eyes look me over slowly before he snarls out the next lines._

 _These are things … I wanna show you how!_

 _So, won't you let me show you right now? Ooh, baby!_

 _My real-life body jerks as imaginary Edward finishes his line and twists his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together tightly. Warmth spreads through my lower belly as I squirm and sigh through the ebbing embers that roll through me and then abruptly die._

 _What the heck was that?_

 _Sitting up, I palm my wild hair away from my face and glance down at my crotch. Forehead wrinkled in confusion, I tug the damp fabric of my sleep shorts away from my skin in disgust. Did I just pee myself? That's fricking disgusting!_

 _Scowling in shame, I dash into my bathroom and strip off my shorts and underwear quickly. The fluid that comes away on the toilet paper when I wipe is thick and clear – not exactly the consistency of pee._

 _Frowning, I flush the evidence and change into a fresh pair of shorts and panties. That was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. One minute, I was listening to Forks Four's new song, the next I was writhing on my mattress and peeing my pants._

 _What the heck is happening to me? Yesterday, I had a zit on my nose that was the size of Mt. Vesuvius. Today, I peed myself. If this is what being a teenager is like, I don't want any part of it._

…

 **Lyrics from "If You Want It To Be Good Girl" by Backstreet Boys.**


	11. Kiss Fantasy

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _Happy Birthday!" Angela sings, looping her arm through mine and dragging me down the hall to her locker. "I brought your present. I just couldn't wait until tonight to see you open it."_

" _It's_ my _present, and you couldn't wait? You're a loon."_

" _Sure," she shrugs, grinning as she thrusts a gift bag toward me. "Open it, please, before I hyperventilate and die."_

" _Okay, okay." I laugh, rifling through the tissue paper and pulling out a large card. "A card?" I scowl, "very creative."_

" _Oh, shut up!" She cries, pushing the thin cardboard toward me and bouncing on the balls of her feet eagerly. "Open it, please! You're killing me!"_

" _Fine," I mutter, flapping it open and peering inside. At first, I don't understand what I'm seeing. It's not until Angela wrenches the two, skinny, shiny slips of paper from the card that I realize exactly what she's gifted me._

" _Are those?" I gasp, pulling her hand closer to my face to examine the small print on the tickets._

" _Yes!" She squeals happily. "I know they're more of a present for me, but I couldn't resist! They announced a tour to celebrate their new album, and they're coming_ here _of all places! I just_ had _to get them! And since I bought them for your birthday, you'll have no choice but to take me with you! They're front row and everything!"_

" _Front row?" My numb lips work around the words that feel foreign in my mouth. I'm trying so hard right now not to freak out. Angela has no idea how … much this means to me. And_ front row _? I'll be close enough to touch Edward!_

 _My insides melt at that thought._

 _What if he doesn't just touch me? What if he kisses me?_

 _My skin breaks out into a feverish blush as everything on my body tightens. Chest heaving, I fervently shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. I can't – not right now. Everyone would notice if I peed my pants like that again._

" _I know, right?" Angela beams, tugging me against her and bouncing excitedly through our hug._

" _That must have been expensive." I frown despite the thunderous beat of my overly excited heart. "You shouldn't have spent that much on me."_

" _No, no," Angela waves me off flippantly. "My dad knows a guy. He does the sound work for them, or something. Whatever, anyway, we're going, and there's nothing you can do to get out of this. So, tell Masen that weekend is all mine!"_

 _My stomach drops. Masen. Right. I'll be seeing him in person_ very _soon._

 _Sigh._


	12. School Puns

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _I thought your boyfriend was coming." Lauren glowers over the lip of her cup, eyelashes fluttering against bright blue eyeshadow. She needs to stop using those cheap glitter pallets from Claire's_. _Nobody looks good in them. But you won't catch me dead telling her that._

" _He said he'd try." I shrug, pulling my fork through the soft remains of my birthday cake. Mom made a Funfetti one from the box. It was probably the best cake I've had in years. Not only because Funfetti is my guilty pleasure, but also because_ my _mom made it. I think this is the first day she's had off in months._

" _He must not like you that much." Lauren lifts her brows in challenge, smirking when I glare in response._

" _He had a competition." I spit, defending the fake boyfriend who stood me up on my birthday. It's really no excuse. If Masen actually were real and was skipping my birthday party for a surfing competition, I'd adamantly agree with her. If you like someone, you make it happen. Whatever that means._

" _In Laguna?" Lauren probes, lips pursed in a sour pout as she continues her obsessive questioning. I don't know why she cares so much. If she wants a boyfriend so bad, she should just go out and get one. Heck, I'm sure Mike's interested – me being taken and all!_

" _Yeah," I nod. "In Laguna. He surfs in competitions there all the time." I have no idea if there are surf competitions in Laguna Beach. I honestly don't care, either. I just want Lauren to get bored of interrogating me and go away. Who even invited her to my birthday party, anyway?_

" _Cool." She nods, lips pursed around a secret smile. "Well, I hope he wins. He better, if he's missing his girlfriend's birthday."_

" _Yeah, well, it's his passion, so…" I trail off, shrugging and smiling indulgently. "As long as he's happy, I'm happy."_

" _Ugh, vom." Angela grimaces, poking herself in the throat dramatically. "Shut up, already! Masen's not here so we can stop talking about him! Let's talk about next weekend and how Bella and I have FRONT ROW_ _seats for the Forks Four concert!"_

" _So jealous." Lauren sulks, crossing her arms over her chest. "They're so hot, and you're going to get to see them up close!"_

" _I know, right?" Angela beams. "Bella doesn't even like them! I'm forcing her to go with me. She's even missing her weekend call with Maaaay-sen!"_

" _Wow," Lauren drawls. "You're such a good friend. I'll take those tickets off your hands if you'd rather sit around talking to some loser surfer all night."_

" _Uh, no!" Angela scoffs. "My dad got them for_ Bella's _birthday, so_ Bella _has to go with me. Sorry, Lauren, but you're just going to have to watch from the nosebleeds."_

" _I would." Lauren growls. "But the show is sold out."_

" _Oooh," Angela winces. "That sucks. Better luck next time! Maybe you can hang out at Bella's and talk to her_ loser _surfer for her? Wouldn't that be a treat?"_

 _Angela and Lauren hold each other's stares for a moment. Lauren's jaw twitches in spite. Angela's smile is beatific._

" _I'm going home." Lauren mutters after a moment. "I'll see you guys in school."_

" _Whoa!" Jessica cries from beside me. "Angela, you freaking schooled her!"_

" _Yeah, well," Angela shrugs, grinning as she nudges me with her elbow. "That'll teach her to disrespect my best friend on her birthday!"_

 _We all guffaw at her cheesy school pun._


	13. Best Day Ever

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _If I keel over and die, lift me up and throw my arm over when Jasper walks by. I just want to touch him once – even in death." Angela nods toward the barrier that separates us from the stage. There's only a foot of space left between us and where the boys will stand as they perform. That thought alone has my mouth going dry and my stomach warming._

 _Peeing my pants is inevitable._

" _How much longer?" I ask, squirming in my seat as the lights dim._

" _Ready to leave already?" Angela chuffs humorlessly. "You're in for a long night. We have to see two opening acts before the boys are on."_

 _Scowling, I fall back into my seat. I should just fess up to Angela and tell her about my obsession with Edward and the band. But then she might realize the connection between Edward and 'Masen' and get pissed off at me for being dishonest._

 _This will just have to be my little secret._

 _The two opening acts take forever to finish. They're not bad, but I came here to be front row for Forks Four, not some random all-girl band and a little boy with a mohawk. I'm practically trembling with excitement when the lights dim once again, signifying the start of another performance._

 _Moments later, the room is filled with a wall of sound, and the stage lights up in blinding Technicolor. Beside me, Angela sways on her feet before jerking alive and emitting an ear-shattering scream as the boys emerge from little platforms that descend from the ceiling. My ears are ringing from the collective screams that erupt from around us by the time the first boy touches ground._

 _This is heaven and hell all at once._

 _When all four are safely onstage, the music starts up again and my ears are filled with the sinful sound of Edward's voice,_ live. _Instantly, my body flares with feverish heat. Holy … I'm going to pee my pants_ multiple _times._

 _I'm literally caught in a trance as the boys sing through the opening song, executing their choreography flawlessly. Trembling with unrestrained excitement and want, I lean heavily against the barrier and extend my hand whenever_ any _of the guys pass by. When Edward does, I flap it earnestly, hoping to somehow capture his attention and lure him to me. The kiss fantasy is still very real._

 _I can't help but dance and sing along with the songs as the boys transition through them. They mix in old and new, hitting on the classics and bringing in the fresh chart toppers. I'm panting and sweaty by the time the opening chords to_ that _song hit my ears._

 _Heart thundering, I grip the barrier in front of me with all of my might as I watch a sweaty Edward divest himself of his shirt, wipe it all over his glistening torso, and toss it out into the audience. It sails off in a direction that is nowhere near me, but I still feel the need to lunge that way just in case it has a second thought and decides to fling itself at me. Physics be damned._

 _Eyes back onstage, I watch as Edward rocks his hips as he really gets into the song. The sizzling burn that has been ever-present throughout the show crackles and bursts into a roar in my lower belly. Panting and singing breathlessly along, I lunge forward as he passes, desperate to feel his sweaty fingers slide against mine._

 _He walks by without a second glance and leans down to touch the hand of a girl a few feet away from me. She sags against the barrier as he moves on, still holding her hand to her face. I am immediately jealous._

" _Get it like it could be,"_

 _Emmett sings as he executes the choreography flawlessly._

" _Would be."_

 _Jasper echoes, rocking his hips sensuously._

" _Yeah, like it should be."_

 _James calls, voice raspy and warm._

" _If you want it to be good, girl,_

 _Get yourself a…"_

 _Edward growls._

" _Bad boy!"_

 _The other three boys answer in unison._

 _My stomach plummets when I hear the song slow, and my hand trembles in anticipation of my favorite part. Shutting my eyes, I sway slowly to the beat, hands clenched against my chest._

" _Oh my God!" Angela screams beside me, grasping my upper arm and shaking me from my trance._

" _What?" I start to say, but the words die on my lips when I see Edward squatting down on the stage in front of me. The world slows to a crawl as his lips part, and the beginning of the verse begins._

" _Now, listen,"_

 _He sighs, eyes locked on mine as he sings._

" _These are things … your mama shouldn't know."_

 _My knees knock together as his eyes rack over me slowly. Wetting his lips with a soft-looking, pink tongue, he continues._

" _These are things … I really wanna show."_

 _Smiling slowly, he drops down into the space between the barrier and the stage before stalking toward me. Inches away from my trembling form, he pries my hand off the barrier railing and sings the next lines directly to me._

" _These are things … I wanna show you how."_

 _Palm to my cheek, he belts out the final lines merely inches from my face._

" _So, won't you let me show you right now? Ooh, baby!"_

 _Blinking through the shock, I'm slow to react and grapple at his arm as he backs away. Lips pulled into a sly smirk, his hand closes gently around my wrist and tugs my fingers free. I'm left there, skin tingling in the places he touched me, as a security guard helps boost him back onstage._

 _A girl behind me plows into my back. Her hands desperately clutch at my shoulders as she screams in my ear. "Oh my God! He TOUCHED you! He SANG to you!"_

 _I can't help but smile as I palm my face. That was … not the kiss fantasy. It was_ so _much better. Every part of me is slick – even my pants. I'm not sure if it's from sweat or pee and I don't care._

 _Today was the best day of my life._

…

 **Lyrics from "If You Want It To Be Good Girl" by Backstreet Boys.**


	14. Knuckle Sandwich

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _And he freaking_ sang _right to_ Bella _!" Angela cries. "I mean, not even like unintentionally. He_ got down _off the stage and grabbed her freaking_ face! _It was the hottest thing I've ever seen. I swear he was going to make out with her."_

" _I would have died." I gasp, half embarrassed, half tingling with want. This has been a rough year for my underwear._

" _What did Masen say?" Lauren asks, materializing at my side. I shouldn't be surprised anymore. I should just expect it. She's always buzzing around like a pesky mosquito._

" _He didn't care." I shrug, tugging the crust off my sandwich. It's_ _stale again today, but I'm still riding the high from this weekend, so I don't care. "He actually thinks it's awesome."_

" _How was his surf competition? I forgot to ask last week." She strokes her chin pensively as I screw my lips to the side and shrug._

" _He did all right. I think he got, like, third place." Never first place. That's too flashy. It's sick that now I'm even strategic about my lies._

" _Interesting." Lauren frowns. "Because I looked up the surf competitions in Laguna last week … and there was only one." She pauses, crossing her arms over her chest as she surveys my reaction. On the outside, I'm cool as a cucumber. I even raise my left eyebrow in challenge, urging her to continue her little expose. Internally, every alarm and whistle is going off at once. Needless to say, it's chaos._

" _You said he got third place?" Lauren asks brows lifted high as she smiles. "That's funny, because there wasn't a single 'Masen' registered to surf in that competition. Or_ any _in months. Looks like someone is lying to you or … maybe you're lying to us? Which one is it, Bel-lah?"_

 _I scowl at her over-emphasis of my name. Not only is that annoying, but she's also doing it on purpose to goad me. Mentally, I'm stuck at a crossroads. I can disengage, and avoid causing more damage, or I can engage and possibly wipe the floor with her._

 _Although the latter is tempting … I clamp my mouth shut tight in order to avoid putting my foot in it further. But that just makes Lauren smile wider._

" _Oh, are you embarrassed now?" Lauren smirks, watching me through smiling eyes. She really is enjoying this. "I think you made him up. I don't think you've_ ever _had a boyfriend and I don't think you_ ever _will. Edward_ Masen _will be the last boy who ever touches you. So, you better savor the feeling, Loserella."_

 _She starts to open her mouth to continue, but her words are cut off as Angela stands and abruptly stuffs her fist down Lauren's throat. With a startled cry, Lauren jerks her head back and palms her mouth._

" _What the hell, Angela?" Lauren cries before suddenly leaning over and coughing. Her hand pulls away from her mouth, revealing a bloodstained tooth in her palm. "Oh my God!" She screeches. "Do you know how much it cost my parents to fix my teeth?"_

" _Not enough." Angela counters, skirting around the table and coming up on Lauren from behind. Hands hard around her shoulders, Angela tows Lauren off the bench beside me and spills her onto the cafeteria floor. "You're not welcome here, bitch." She snarls, hands poised haughtily on her hips. "And if you talk to my best friend like that again, I'll punch the rest of your cheap veneers clean out of your face."_

 _The entire cafeteria erupts in hoots and hollers at Angela's proclamation, but then, just as soon quiets as our principal descends on the scene. "All right, ladies. Come with me." Dr. Banner mutters grumpily, motioning for Lauren and Angela to follow him outside._

" _I'll see you later," Angela calls to me as she scoops up her bag and follows Dr. Banner from the room._

" _Okay!" I call back, slumping in my seat and sighing. What the heck was that? I think the world is falling apart._

 _And I'm certain Edward is the cause._


	15. You're Masen Me Horny

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ** _2005_**

" _Is it true?" Angela asks as she slicks a fresh coat of pink polish over my bare fingernails._

 _Gnawing my lip, I shrug. "Yeah, it is."_

" _Wow." Angela sighs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "That was a heck of a story you made up there, Bell. I didn't think you had it in you."_

" _You're not mad?" I question, half relieved, half confused. This is definitely not the reaction I'd expected from Angela. She's all drama, drama, drama._

" _I mean, yeah, I am. But, I'm also sad that you felt like you had to lie to everyone for so long. Lots of guys like you. You don't need to make someone up to have a boyfriend. You can have one in real life." Angela's brows draw together as she focuses on scraping the excess polish off the skin around my thumbnail. "Why did you do it, anyway?"_

" _Well," I start, pausing when I realize I don't really have an answer. "I didn't know what else to say to Mike to get him off my back. I figured a boyfriend would keep him at bay. And then … well, it just_ stuck _. So, I kept going with it."_

" _You hate Mike_ that _much?" Angela laughs. "God, this is so stupid. I don't know why you didn't tell me! I would have helped you come up with a way more convincing story."_

" _I think I did fine on my own." I scowl. "I had you all fooled for months."_

" _True." Angela nods, grinning and rolling her eyes. "So,_ Edward _Masen_ , _huh? I thought you didn't like Forks Four?"_

" _I never said that." I shrug, fanning my wet nails in hopes that the extra draft of air will encourage them to dry faster._

" _You didn't have to! Every time I played their music your face said it all!"_

" _It wasn't that I didn't like them…" I sigh, "It's just … Edward's voice … and face … and, ugh! They just made me … feel_ things _."_

" _Ha!" Angela guffaws. "Oh my God!" She falls back on her bed, legs kicking frantically in the air as she laughs. "You didn't hate them! Edward just made you horny!"_

 _Growling in mock anger, I kick her thigh repeatedly until she falls onto the floor in a heap. "He didn't." I glare, nose wrinkling in disgust._

 _Barely holding back laughter, Angela sits up and props her head in her hand. Lips trembling with restraint, she quirks a brow at me in a way that says 'really?'_

" _Okay, okay," I laugh, falling back onto the bed. "He made me horny."_


	16. Can I?

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **2018**

My body jerks again and my eyes blink away the fog that had previously blinded them. When they open, still standing in front of me is the reason I was sent back to junior high.

Edward Masen.

In the fucking flesh.

I want to swoon, but I'm a professional, so I need to play it cool. Plus, I've just stared at him and blinked for an uncomfortably long time while I took a mental trip down memory lane.

I'm pretty sure he knows that I know who he is.

"Rose," Edward repeats, pursing his lips around the words in a way that should be illegal. I shouldn't stare at him like this, but I can't help myself. He practically dropped off the face of the Earth when Forks Four broke up. There hasn't been a recent picture posted of him in years. And time has been fucking _good_ to him.

His skin is soft, smooth, and practically ageless underneath the glasses that are perched sexily on his perfect nose. His lips are just as soft-looking and succulent as they were all those years ago when he cupped my face and told me via song that he'd like to fuck me in the middle of his concert. His hair is covered by a gray beanie, which is disappointing, but the rest of him is there on full, delicious display. He's wearing one of those wide, deep, V-neck shirts that guys with firm chests covered in sparse hair and tattoos often do. Did I mention the chest tattoos? And the arm tattoos? And the neck tattoos?

 _Holy shit._

His legs are encased in olive green joggers that cling to every inch of him ... including the crotch area. Especially the crotch area. Feet aren't my thing, so I just shrug at his gray sneakers and dart my eyes back up to his crotch region. I can't make a single thing out in there, but my mind Photoshops on the faint outline of a penis. I imagine he has a hammer down there. I'd like to find out if my dreams match the reality.

 _I'm sick._

"You must be Rose's teacher," Edward says, smiling softly as he extends his hand in greeting. A fire roars to life in my belly as our palms touch for the second time in my life. This time, I think it's better because I'm actually old enough now for him to fuck me.

"Yes," I smile, shaking his hand firmly as my tried-and-true kiss fantasy plays over in my mind. That shit never gets old. "I'm Ms. Swan. It's nice to meet you…" I purposely trail off, leaving space for him to supply his name. I already know it, of course, but I don't want to be awkward. Well, more awkward than I already am.

"Edward Masen," Edward replies, his face splitting into a radiant smile. "Rosalie's uncle."

"Oh," I say dumbly, looking on as he watches me mull over the information he just provided. I should know more about my students. I'm pretty sure Rosalie's mom is listed on her emergency contact card.

 _Why the hell is Edward here in her place?_

 _Why am I mentally complaining about that?_

"Hi!" Alice, the paraeducator who works primarily in my classroom, chirps, skirting around the corner and grinning from ear to ear. "Our first parent! Welcome to Open House!" Then, after spotting Rosalie ambling around the room, she shrieks in excitement. "Oh, you're Rose's dad! Oh my God, she's one of my favorite students!" Shaking his hand wildly, Alice bids us farewell before jogging over to Rose and scooping her up. Balancing her in her arms, Alice carries Rose over to the reading nook.

"I'll, uh, correct her later," I tell him, pursing my lips and crossing my arms uncomfortably over my chest. This is not how I imagined my first _real_ meeting with Edward to go. Fuck, I never even thought there would ever BE a _real_ meeting! I mean, it's been thirteen years since that fateful night. And yet, here I am, blowing it with awkwardness. Then again, I can't just stride up to him, palm his dick, and admit that I worship him.

 _Can I?_


	17. Pink Glitter

**DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **2018**

"Look," Edward says suddenly, taking a step toward me and lowering his voice. "I've been out of the scene for a while, but I know my fan demographics." Pausing, Edward peers down at me intently before wetting his lips. My knees, naturally, clamp together as I just barely suppress a moan. Holy shit, he's fucking hot. "I hope I'm not reading this wrong … but I'd be happy to sign something for you if you'd like an autograph."

My face instantly heats in embarrassment. Shit. I've been found out. "Was I that obvious?" I say aloud when I only meant to ask myself via thought.

"Well," Edward starts, brows raised as he implies with a sheepish shrug that I was. He's unbelievably sexy and polite. I'm a fucking bumbling, stumbling teenager drooling and dry humping his leg. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration.

"I'm sorry," I say self-consciously. "It's just … Forks Four was my favorite band in junior high. I was honestly just shocked to see … well … _you_ standing there in my classroom."

"Happens more than you'd think." He shrugs, grinning good-naturedly. "I avoid Starbucks and Whole Foods like the plague. They're full of millennials who are not above screaming and chasing me down the street."

 _Or tearing off your clothes in the middle of an elementary school, in my case._

 _Have I mentioned that I'm sick?_

"Tough life." I quip, rolling my eyes. "But, yes, I do want your autograph. I'd have you sign a random sheet of paper, but I actually have something a little more meaningful at home."

"It's not your underwear, is it?" Edward asks, brows disappearing under his hat. "Shit, I shouldn't have asked my niece's teacher that. Are you going to get me thrown out? You should probably get me thrown out."

"No," I laugh, rolling my eyes. Wow, he's funnier than I thought he'd be. Here I was, thinking he was only a pretty face and a hot body. "It's actually front row tickets to Forks Four's Victory tour."

"Well, look at you, high roller." Edward grins. "Which one was it?"

"Which one, what?" I reply, brows pulled together in confusion.

"Which one of us did you have a crush on?" Edward teases, eyes glinting behind his glasses as he grins wolfishly.

"Uh, wha?" I sputter, face erupting in flames. There's no way I'm telling him that. Especially not when I'm surrounded by parents at my place of employment's back-to-school Open House. "I didn't … no."

"Right." Edward murmurs, smiling knowingly. "I'll tell you what." Then, producing a pink, glittery marker from the supply box at the squat table beside us, he grasps my hand and turns it over. "Let me know when you're ready for that autograph." Tingling all over, I watch raptly as he scrawls seven digits across the back of my hand. Thumb sliding from my wrist to my palm, he slowly withdraws his hand.

 _Holy shit._

"Okay," I mumble dumbly, holding my newly decorated appendage against my chest like a bum-winged bird.

"Rose!" He calls out, grasping her little hand in his as she topples into his legs. "It was nice to meet you, Ms. Swan," Edward says, peering over his shoulder and not-so-subtly undressing me with his eyes. And then he's gone, ass bouncing away with an unmistakable swagger that screams sex, sex, sex.

 _Fuck._

"Do you know that guy?" Alice asks, peering at me curiously, as I straighten my blouse and take a deep, calming breath. "He looks familiar."

"No," I reply, tucking the hand with the glittery, pink numbers behind my back.

He's just the guy that single-handedly propelled my twelve-year-old ass into puberty.

 _No big deal._


	18. Celebratory Dance

**Thank you all so much for your patience! I didn't want to start writing new content for this story until I was finished with Prey and Thirteen. Now that they're done (for the time being), I'm going to start posting weekly updates for Infatuation (: I hope you all are as excited as I am for something light and fun! (I definitely need a brief break from the heavy shit I like to write)**

 **Soooo, without further ado, here's some new content!**

* * *

 **D** **ISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** SunflowerFran

 **2018**

As soon as I get home, I pour myself a glassful of wine and dial Angela's number. I can't resist sharing the news of this unexpected extension of the "Masen" saga.

Phone on speaker, I press the rim of the glass to my lips as I pace impatiently alongside the kitchen island. I am both parts nervous and excited to share tonight's strange, yet enthralling, events. And when Angela's voice greets me with a sleepy "hello," I immediately cease my pacing and lean over my phone.

"You will never fucking guess who I met tonight." My voice is deep and breathless, conveying the intensity of my astonishment.

It still doesn't feel real.

"First, thank you for waking me. This better be fucking good. Second, you're right, I won't." Angela drawls sarcastically through the phone. "So, you might as well just tell me."

"I still can't believe I'm telling you this," I chuckle, shaking my head incredulously as I let out a deep breath. "I met Edward Masen tonight."

There's a brief stretch of silence on the line before Angela lets out a harsh laugh. "No," she snaps. "Not this again. Are you feeling okay? Are you having a mental breakdown? Do you need to talk to someone? I'm sure my parents know somebody. I'll be happy to make the connection."

"No," I insist, eyes rolling as my index finger traces over the numbers scrawled on the back of my hand. "It's real this time. I met him tonight. In the flesh. He was there – at my open house. He's still hot as shit, by the way."

"Open house? Like, at school?" Angela inquires, voice colored in doubt.

"Yeah, believe me, I was shocked as hell to see him there, too. I'm still pretty shaken up about it, honestly." The sparkly, pink digits decorating my hand are the only things keeping me from questioning myself. That, and the image of his perky ass bouncing away, which is now permanently engrained into my brain. Not that I'm complaining!

Sheesh, is it hot in here or is me?

"Wait – ew, are you his kid's teacher? That's so awkward!"

"Um, no," I reply, picking up my glass and taking a deep swallow. I'm going to need more alcohol for this. Clearing my throat, I continue. "I'm his niece's teacher, actually. Why is that awkward?" I hope I don't sound as defensive as I feel.

"Well, if my memory serves me correctly, thirteen years ago your current student's uncle blatantly eye-fucked you, grabbed your fucking face, and then proceeded to serenade you in front of a shit ton of people. If that's not awkward, I don't know what is."

Right.

 _That._

Butterflies fill my stomach at the memory. That was absolutely incredible. Yet ... she does have a good point. It _is_ weird to think that my student's uncle is the star of my single most intense sexual fantasy. Also, the fact that it still has such a profound effect on me is ridiculous.

Heart thrumming in my throat, I swallow before letting out a shaky laugh. "Good point."

"I know. I'm smart as fuck. Keep the compliments coming." After a brief pause, she lets out a heavy sigh and continues sarcastically. " _Well_ , are you going to tell me what happened or what?"

Biting my lip, I recount tonight's events breathlessly. It all comes pouring out in a rush of words – from my nerves, to Rose's gleeful greeting, to Edward's shocking arrival. When I describe our interaction, Angela lets out an excited shriek.

"Dude," Angela cries animatedly. "He wants you."

"You think so?" I probe hopefully, bottom lip trapped between my teeth. In the moment, I really did feel like he was flirting with me, but thinking back on it now, I'm not so sure.

"Um, yeah! He gave you his fucking number! I mean, obviously I'm not privy to his habits, but, like, why else would he do that?" Angela punctuates her rant with a self-satisfied hum.

"I thought maybe he was being nice?"

"Nice? No – nice is smiling, nodding, and saying 'see you later.' Nice is giving you the autograph and going on his happy way. Giving you his number is _beyond_ nice. It's _I'm interested_ , you lucky fucking bitch!"

Interested. Edward is _interested_ in me. Like _for real_ interested in me.

This is absolutely unreal. I _am_ one lucky fucking bitch! I can't help but break out into celebratory dance.

Reading my silence, Angela continues. "So, what are you going to do? If you wait too long, you risk him forgetting. You need to make a good, solid move ... and soon."

Her words send a spike of nerves through my gut.

"I know."

"Do you have a plan?" As the silence stretches, she laughs. "Of course not. I don't know why I even asked."

"I honestly haven't thought that far ahead. I mean, it _just_ happened."

"That, and you have absolutely _no_ game."

"Okay, fuck you. That's rude, but also true." After expelling a self-deprecating laugh, I sober and continue. "Help me? Please?"

"I'd be honored," Angela replies self-importantly.

Sighing in relief, I sag against the counter. I don't know what I'd do without Angela. She's played so many roles in my life. My tormentor. My defender. My confidant. My cheerleader. My advisor. And, most importantly, my best friend and sister.

I'll never tell her that, though. Her ego is way too fucking inflated as is.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	19. Feel It Out

**Hii, I hope you all have been well since I last posted. A lot has happened for me! I found out that I not only need glasses now, but I _HAVE NEEDED_ glasses my whole life! Thanks optometrist of my childhood (: Which explains the headaches I get on a constant basis and my inability to see anything at a distance. Swell. Somehow I'm still functioning, though! I mean, the show must go on, amiright? **

**Speaking of show, it's time for your next installment of Infatuation! I'm glad to see that so many of you find the continuation funny (: I tried to make the transition from OS to full story as seamless as possible. I really love awkward Bella all grown up (: She kind of reminds me of me.**

 **Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** SunflowerFran

 **2018**

It's Friday morning, and I'm supposed to be prepping my classroom for today, but I can't stop thinking about the advice Angela gave me last night.

" _Okay, so, like, wait two or three days and then send him a text. Something super casual, like, 'Hey, this is Bella. It was nice meeting you the other day.' And then, like, feel it out from there."_

Waiting a couple of days feels risky, but when I voiced that opinion to Angela, she insisted on it.

" _You'll kill your chances with him if you text him too soon. It'll make you seem eager and desperate – which you are, but you can't let him know that. Guys don't like that."_

Okay, rude, but true. I _am_ eager and desperate because I really fucking want this to work out. Not everyone gets a chance to fulfill a childhood fantasy. Especially when it involves potentially having sex with a _real_ celebrity. I need to capitalize on this shit, which means I can't afford to wait. Angela's advice be damned, I'm texting him right now.

Phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip fueled by nerves, I hastily tap out a text:

 _ **Hey, this is Bella, Rose's teacher. It was really nice to meet you yesterday.**_

Breathing deeply to calm my nerves, I clench my eyes shut and press my finger against the 'send' button. When my eyes open, the message appears onscreen as an outgoing text in a newly established thread between Edward and me.

Shit – I think I might throw up.

Scrambling into my chair, I drop my phone onto my desk and rake my fingers through my hair. I just texted a fucking celebrity. Not just _any_ celebrity, but _the_ celebrity of my dreams.

Someone, please pinch me because this has to be some sort of fucked up fever dream.

"Um, Bella? Are you okay?"

At the sound of Alice's worry-tinged tone, I drop my hands to the table and take a deep, cleansing breath.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just having a ... moment."

Alice's look says unconvinced. In fact, she takes it further by raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Sure, you are," she quips. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that guy who was in here last night? The one with the tattoos that left you all flustered and red?"

"What?" I breathe, feigning confusion and disbelief. "I wasn't flustered and red!"

I definitely was.

I'm flustered and red right now just fucking thinking about him.

And that text.

Oh, God, that text! I should have waited like Angela told me to. Now Edward's going to think I'm some sort of desperate fucking loser. With good reason, too, because I am!

"Um, yeah, you were." Alice insists, dropping her bag onto my desk and propping her hands on her tiny hips. "And I took the liberty to do some research last night. Why the hell didn't you tell me that was Edward Masen? It's not every day that a celebrity just strolls through the school – I would have liked to have at least gotten an autograph or something!"

I try not to think about pink sparkly digits and my outgoing text as I reply. "I'm sorry! I was red ... and flustered! I wasn't thinking straight."

"Oh, so, now you admit it!" Alice sasses, lips puckered in disdain. "Fessing up only when it suits you – nice! I'll keep that in mind next time a celebrity that you don't recognize walks through the door." Gesturing wildly to the classroom door, Alice huffs haughtily before flouncing away.

This is going to be a rough day.

An insistent buzz against my desk draws my eyes downward. It's my phone notifying me of an incoming text message. My stomach plummets at the sight of the name attached to the lock screen banner: Edward Masen.

He replied!

I do a physical fist pump as I play Angela's words from last night back in my mind.

" _If he replies instantly, you'll know he really does want you and that he's not going to fuck things up by playing silly games. That's the goal, but not realistic. He'll probably wait a few hours – or even days – to reply, which still means he wants you, but he's just playing it cool. If he doesn't reply, then you're screwed. But let's not think about that."_

He wants me, and he's not interested in playing games. Holy shit – that's a good sign! A great sign!

Bouncing in my seat with glee, I unlock my phone and tap into my messages. Biting my lip, I open our thread and hungrily read his response:

 _ **Ditto. What's up?**_

Swallowing, I try not to feel disappointed as I sit back in my chair. I know it's a good sign he responded already, but I'm not sure what I expected his response to be. He's not really a normal guy, so I definitely didn't think it would be some bullshit standard guy response like "what's up?"

Hmmm, I guess celebrities aren't immune to typical guy-isms then.

Chewing my lip, I try to conjure a casual-but-interested reply. Angela suggested I "feel it out," but I have no fucking idea what that means or how to execute it. Wracking my brain for her advice, I attempt to find some guidance.

" _Once you have natural conversation flowing, bring up the autograph, but not in a serious way. In a flirty way. Like you're suggesting the autograph has a naughty meaning. Show him your interest in him goes beyond that of a fan. Maybe suggest meeting up sometime this weekend or next weekend. He put the ball in your court by giving you his number, so you're going to have to make the first move."_

God, why is dating so fucking complicated? How am I supposed to go from "what's up?" to suggestive flirting? Angela is right. I'm shit at this. I have zero game.

I start typing out: _**Just getting ready for the day (; you?**_ But then erase it just as quickly. The wink is so fucking cheesy and awkward. If I got a text like that from someone, I wouldn't respond. No, I definitely can't send him that.

Screwing my lips to the side in thought, I decide that being direct is my best option. Swallowing my nerves, I tap out my response and press send quickly before I can overthink it.

 _ **I don't know how to do this smoothly, so I'm just going to come right out with it. Do you want to meet up sometime this weekend?**_

Let's hope he can't sense the desperation behind that text.

* * *

 **Anyone else struggle with flirting?**

 **Thanks for reading! See you all next Wednesday (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	20. Double Text

**Hiiii (: Back again with another chapter! I'm too excited to write an A/N haha so all I'm going to say is enjoy (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

My day, as expected, is rough.

Not only is Alice cold as fuck and unhelpful during the lessons, but also my understanding of teaching ethics dictates that I put my phone away during the school day. Therefore, I am riddled with anxiety thinking about Edward's potential response.

 _What if he denies me?_

 _What if he doesn't?_

I don't know which possibility makes me more nervous.

It's not until lunchtime rolls around that I am finally able to check my phone. My stomach twists into knots when I see the notification of his text on my lock screen. It was sent ten minutes after my response. I think Angela would say that's a good sign.

 _ **Lol your directness is refreshing! I'm meeting some friends out for drinks tomorrow night. You're welcome to join us.**_

Gnawing my lip, I'm reminded of Angela's words from last night.

" _If he suggests meeting at a bar, he's not looking for anything serious. Bars mean alcohol. Alcohol means loss of inhibitions. Loss of inhibitions means no-strings-attached sex."_

Is that what I want? If all I get out of this is a casual fling with my childhood crush, will I be satisfied?

I'm not sure.

At that moment, my phone buzzes in my hand as another text comes through. A glance at the screen confirms it's from Edward.

Holy shit! A double text? Angela said never to do that because it makes you seem desperate. Does that mean _Edward_ is desperate for _my_ attention?

I fucking hope so. I'm happy to give it to him – among other things I'd rather not think about when I have five minutes left until I'm supposed to pick my students up from the cafeteria. Lest I get red and flustered. Again.

Glancing down at my phone, I can't help but smile as I read his text:

 _ **Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else? I realize now that it was a little presumptuous to invite you to a bar. I don't even know if you're comfortable in that setting. Or, if you drink. Are you? Do you?**_

Well, it's definitely a relief that I'm not the only one who finds textual communication a struggle. This is made even more obvious as a second frantic text buzzes through.

 _ **Also, I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage. Let's go do something else. Lunch? Tomorrow? Your choice.**_

Huh, my lack of response must have freaked him out. I can't help but smile at that. He really must care about the impression he's making on me.

I must use this to my advantage!

I have two options – drinks or lunch. There are pluses and minuses to both. Going for drinks keeps things casual and lighthearted while opening up the opportunity for more ... intimacy. I don't habitually have sex on the first date, but, for Edward, I might make an exception. Lunch, on the other hand, guarantees alone time and plenty of discussion. Yet, awkwardness is inevitable in that situation.

Hmm ... I might need the social crutch alcohol naturally provides.

 _ **No worries (: I have been known to indulge in both bars and drinking, so I'm fine with tomorrow night. Just let me know when and where.**_

The idea of drinks doesn't scare me. In fact, it excites me. I haven't gone out in a while. The only thing that gives me pause is the thought of going alone. I don't think that's very smart, especially when I don't know him _or_ his friends.

If only Angela lived nearby, I would have someone to bring along as moral support.

Just at that moment, Alice enters the room with today's ever-present scowl set firmly in place. "You're late, and I'm not going to do your job for you."

That's right. Kids. It's time to pick them up from lunch.

Scrambling from my seat, I rush out of the room and push my way outside. In the few minutes it takes me to reach the cafeteria, an idea blooms in my mind. A proposal of sorts, which will have a two-part effect. The first, being an improvement in today's working environment. The second, being moral support during tomorrow night's meetup.

It is now my life's mission to make up with Alice.

I don't really have time to put my plan in motion until my students are happily distracted by recess. Standing at the playground fence, I glance over at Alice and smile.

"Hey, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

The way her head turns to face me gives me an Exorcist vibe. I try not to shiver as she fixes me with a lethal glare. "I'm not talking to you until you apologize. And _truly_ mean it."

Jeez, she's really milking this. It's really not that big of a deal.

I have half a mind to stomp away stubbornly, but I rethink that when I realize she's my only chance of having moral support tomorrow night. Despite her intermittently lousy attitude, she is my only friend outside of Angela. I maintain a _very_ close circle as I find the thought of keeping up with more than two friends exhausting.

I'm a simple lady, what can I say?

"Alice," I groan, "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to keep you from having your own celebrity experience. I honestly was in shock from meeting him, I didn't think of telling you. And, by the time I recovered, he was already gone."

Alice silently and stoically considers what I've said. Her eyes narrow briefly, lips pushing to the side as she decides what to say. Then, as if suddenly possessed by some spirit of positivity, she blinks away the stoniness and smiles brightly. "Thank you! Apology accepted." Linking her arm through mine, she continues. "I have no plans this weekend. What are we doing?"

Well, that was relatively painless.

Now, to seal the deal.

"What do you think about getting that autograph you wanted?" I ask casually, holding back my smile as she turns and stares at me incredulously.

"You dirty girl! Were you flirting during Open House?"

"No," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "But I did get some digits. You down for drinks with a retired, International Superstar tomorrow night?"

"Are you kidding me?" She scoffs. "Like I'd say no!"

Mission accomplished.

* * *

 **What option would you have chosen?**

 **See you all next** **Wednesday! (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	21. Tequila!

**Happy Halloween! I hope you all have had a safe and silly time (: I sure have, although I didn't do anything special this year. Just relaxed at home with family. It was very much needed.**

 **Now, let's do this** **thingy! I can't wait to hear what you guys think of how the continuation is going (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I'm having a mini anxiety attack when my phone chirps, notifying me of an incoming text. Scrambling across my bed, I snatch it up quickly in case it's Edward.

He could still cancel.

He could change venues.

He could be _flirting_.

The possibilities are endless.

I can't help but scowl when I realize the text isn't from Edward, but from Alice. "What do you want?" I murmur grumpily to myself as I unlock my phone. Her text glares back at me, giving me the answer to the rhetorical question I voiced:

 _ **What are you wearing?**_

Chewing my lip, I glance down at myself and type back a very literal response:

 _ **Pajamas.**_

And then, chuckling myself, I add:

 _ **Want a picture?**_

Onscreen, the little dots appear and disappear several times, indicating that she is typing her response, before her reply comes through:

 _ **Yes.**_

Rolling my eyes, I shoot her a gif of Lucy sticking her tongue out before sliding off the bed. Standing alongside it, I peer down at the cause of my mini anxiety attack – the mess. Clothes are strewn about haphazardly in various states of crumpled and inside-out. It's as if my closet projectile vomited all of my clothes onto the bed.

A quick glance back at it confirms this.

Clearly, I have no fucking clue what to wear. I have plenty of shit. One might argue that I have _too_ much shit. But, every time I put something on, I manage to find fault in it.

I think this is the girliest I have ever felt in my entire life.

Clenching my teeth in frustration, I navigate to my phone contacts, tap Angela's name, and breathe deeply as it rings. She's my voice of reason. She'll know what to wear.

"Help." I breathe as soon as she answers. "I have no fucking clue what to wear tonight."

"Jesus, do I need to wipe your ass for you, too?" Angela replies humorlessly. "You're going to a bar. Show some leg. Show some tit. Slap some makeup on and mess up your hair. You could probably wear a paper bag with a V-neck cut into it, and guys would still follow your ass around all night."

"I thought the rule was to cover the legs if you're showing boobs and vice versa?" I reply pathetically.

"Hell no! Are you a prude? Do you want to fuck him or are you having an informal parent-teacher conference at a fucking club? Show both. In fact, don't wear anything! That'll definitely get him going."

"Okay – the T and A must be on display. Anything else?"

"Lipstick. You have a fabulous pout. Show it off, girl! Make him think about those lips wrapped around a certain part of him. Draw his eyes there on purpose. Drink from straws all night!"

"Noted," I laugh, mentally conjuring the image of myself looking sultry as I sip my drink through one of those skinny, red cocktail straws. Definitely irresistible. "I don't know why I never thought of that..." I murmur thoughtfully.

"Because you're a dork with no game," Angela replies matter-of-factly.

I scowl and cross my free arm over my chest. "I'll have you know, I've had plenty of dates."

"Yeah," Angela laughs. "And how many have led to second, third, fourth, and fifth dates?"

"Point made." I pout.

"I'm not trying to hurt you." Angela sighs. "I'm trying to help you. This guy is your ideal ... your holy grail! Fucking this up is not an option."

"It's inevitable, though." I groan, sitting heavily on my clothes-filled bed. "I'm fucking hopeless. I suck at dating. I suck at flirting. And I haven't had sex in, like, five years, so I probably suck at that now, too!"

"Shut up!" Angela snaps. "You don't suck. You're an awesome, amazing person with a refreshingly quirky personality. He's going to think you're a fucking treat. And if he doesn't, fuck him! No – Literally, fuck him. Like, if things start going south while you're trying to make a meaningful, romantic connection, switch to an overtly sexual approach so at least you'll have that to remember."

"You think he'd go for that?" I ask in a small voice. I can't help but feel self-conscious when thinking about my potential Plan B. The possibility of seducing a former pop star is daunting.

"Did he give you his number?" Angela asks exasperatedly.

"Yeah?" I reply, unsure.

"Then he'll definitely go for that. Guys don't go around giving their numbers to girls they _don't_ want to fuck. Unless, like, it's a family member or a coworker. But even then, some guys are into that shit."

"Ew!" I cry, laughing in spite of the disgust her words inspire in me. "I don't want to think about that."

"It's true," she sings playfully.

"Ugh, you're gross." I laugh, lying back on my bed. Breathing deeply, I relax into the mattress. "Thank you," I murmur after a moment. "I was really getting worked up over this."

"You're welcome." Angela chirps cheerily. "Now, I'm going to hang up with you so you can clean that mess off your bed and start getting ready. Remember, how are the T and A?"

"They're on display!" I shout back, picturing teenage versions of us jumping on Angela's bed while chanting that.

"Good." Angela murmurs. "You're going to kill it."

"I am," I reply, spreading my arms out wide and pulling mounds of garments toward my face. I can't help the giddy laugh that escapes my mouth as I bury my face in clothes.

It's happening.

I'm finally going to fulfill my dreams.

I'm finally going to live out that kiss fantasy.

Sitting up sharply, I murmur to myself excitedly, "I know exactly what to wear."

-infatuation-

"Holy shit!" Alice exclaims, dropping her bag to the floor as she catches sight of me. "You look ... incredible, Bella! I don't think I've ever seen you look this hot."

"Why, thank you!" I grin indulgently, dropping into an odd curtsey in response to her compliments.

"And now you've totally ruined it." Alice murmurs, eyes rolling in exasperation at my eccentric behavior. "Please don't do that when we get to the bar, weirdo. You're going to destroy whatever illusions he might have about you."

"Noted." I laugh, straightening and dropping my hands to smooth the skirt of my skimpy dress.

"You know, I've always wondered why you don't have a boyfriend." Alice continues, stepping into my apartment and stooping to pick up her purse.

"And now you know why?" I ask, readying myself for another roast.

"No," She smiles. "Now I'm even more confused. Your dorkiness is adorable. Combined with your good looks, you're a total catch!"

"If only guys actually thought like that." I murmur pathetically, thinking about the number of failed dates I've had over past 5 years. The amount, as unspeakable as it is, sucks all of the confidence out of me.

"Oh no," Alice whispers in alarm. "No, we can't go out like this. Not with you all mopey."

"Why not?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm fine. I'm not mopey, see, look, I'm smiling!" I force a smile, waving my fingers on either side of my face as emphasis.

"No, you're not. But I have just the thing to help you."

Fishing around in her giant bag, Alice grins in delight as she produces a large, clear bottle from inside. The shape and brand are unmistakable.

"Tequila?" I ask uncertainly.

"Tequila" She repeats, smiling wide – menacingly.

Jesus, take the wheel.

* * *

 **Oh boy. I think just about everyone has a nightmare drinking story where Tequila was to blame. Personally, I love drinking Tequila. Especially in Margaritas. So yummy!**

 **How do we think this is going to go? Will it be a thing of nightmares for B? Or will it go off swimmingly?**

 **Thank you so much for reading! I'll be responding to reviews later on this week (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	22. The Flash

**Hiiiii - one week late, but I'm here! I'll keep it short and sweet (: I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I wake with a start. Gathering my wits, I assess my internal damage as I swivel my eyes around the room – taking in my surroundings.

My head is throbbing.

My tongue is thick and carpet-y.

My bladder is full to bursting.

My stomach warns there will definitely be vomiting in my future.

I'm hungover as fuck ... and I have no idea where I am.

My limbs tremble with the effort it takes to push myself up into a sitting position. And when I finally make it, the pain in my forehead has me dropping my head to my knees with a groan.

How the hell did I let this happen?

More importantly, what the hell happened last night?

A flashback pushes itself forward in my mind:

" _Ugh," I grunt, dropping the shot glass to my kitchen counter in disgust. "That was awful."_

" _Don't be a pussy," Alice chides, grabbing my glass and filling it to the brim once again. "We'll take three shots as a pregame, and then have one drink there. We'll be perfect all night."_

Saliva pools at the back of my tongue as stomach lurches sharply. No, maybe I'd rather not revisit what happened last night. Just the thought alone makes me want to upchuck all over whoever's sheets these are. Which would be a shame because they're comfortable as fuck and smell amazing.

Just as I'm dragging them to my nose for a deep whiff, the ensuite bathroom door flings open, slamming against the plaster wall behind it. Blankets clutched against my face, I watch in horror as a man I have never seen before strides confidently out. He's pudgy around the middle, covered in a thick carpet of fur, and outfitted only in a pair of tight, leopard-print briefs.

What.

The.

Fuck.

His swagger falters when he notices me sitting up in bed and a blissful smile stretches across his face in response to what I can only assume is my look of absolute terror. "Good morning," he greets me, voice chipper as fuck despite having a complete stranger in what I assume is his bed. "Glad to see you survived!"

"Um, thanks?" I reply, shifting the blankets away from my mouth. We stare at each other for a moment and the room fills with awkward silence. "Don't, um, be, like, too offended, but ... who are you?"

"You don't remember?" He quips, mouth popping open in surprise. "Oh, shit! That's rich! You really _were_ drunk as hell, weren't you?"

"I really..." I reply helplessly, "I don't know." Then, glancing him over again, I continue. "I'm not sure I want to know. I just ... want to go home."

"Sure thing, girl, but you might want to wait—" He's abruptly cut off by the bedroom door opening. And, to my utmost surprise, none other than Edward Masen shuffles in.

I am simultaneously filled with relief and mortification.

"Woah," Edward murmurs, taking in the scene he just walked in to. "Garrett, dude, put on some pants."

"My house, my rules," Garrett smirks before moving toward the door. "Nice to meet you again, Bella!" He calls over his shoulder before stepping out of the room.

Silence falls over the room as I glance from the now-closed door to Edward. He peers back at me, brows furrowed in what I assume is concern.

"Hi," he murmurs after a moment in a soft voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." I groan, dropping the sheets in order to fist my bedraggled hair.

I know something is terribly wrong when I instantly feel the cool sting of the air conditioning on my bare skin. My worries are confirmed when Edward lets out a strangled gasp and turns around abruptly.

"Fuck," I groan, staring down at myself in disbelief. Nakedness as far as the eye can see greets me. "I, shit, I'm sorry, Edward. I just totally flashed you." Cheeks reddening, I gather the sheets around me and let out an anxious laugh.

"Indeed." He replies, voice gravely and sexy as hell. If I wasn't so hungover I would definitely try to amp things up a little and see how far I can push this shit. Sadly, with the state of my body right now, that is not even an option.

I feel like absolute hell.

"Did I do this to myself or..." I trail off, not even fathoming the thought of Edward stripping me naked himself.

"I took off your shoes." He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, before continuing. "You must have taken off the rest after I left."

"So..." I drawl, taking in his tense stance and the delicious muscle tone of his shoulders. "Did, um, anything happen last night?"

Shoulders shaking with unrestrained laughter, he peers back at me with a wide smile. Snickering slightly, he shakes his head before muttering. "You have no fucking idea."

"Ugh," I groan, dropping my head once again. "Kill me now."

"Hey," Edward murmurs softly. "It wasn't too bad, actually. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn't puke on me or anything."

"That's a relief." I grumble, attempting to rub the throbbing pain from my temples.

"I don't know if you're up for it..." Edward begins, staring at me thoughtfully. "But, I'm thinking of going out for some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" My stomach twists angrily at the thought. "After the mess I was last night, you _still_ want to hang out with me? Are you crazy?"

"You weren't that bad." He smiles softly, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. His broad chest. His firm chest. His tattooed chest.

My stomach tightens with want.

Want for Edward.

And want for the bathroom.

Oh God – if I don't act fast, this might just be the first _legitimate_ time Edward makes me pee myself.

"Okay, yeah, I'll go." I tell him, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "But, I need to use your bathroom first."

"Oh! Of course," Edward smiles awkwardly, gesturing to the ensuite that his alarming friend emerged from earlier this morning. "I'll just leave you to it."

I can't help but stare unabashedly at his retreating form. The flimsy white v-neck and baggy sweatpants he's wearing only further serve to emphasize the incredible planes of his body.

I don't know how I'm going to survive breakfast if that's what he's wearing.

Um.

Speaking of wearing things and breakfast. What the hell am I supposed to wear? My dress from last night? My heels?

Fuck.

This is going to be interesting.

* * *

 **Oh boy - what happened last night? Poor B haha I guess tequila wasn't such a good idea after all!**

 **See you all next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	23. Gratefully Apologetic

**Hiiii - omg! Two posts this week? I know, I'm feeling fancy. I just couldn't wait to give you guys more (:**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I don't know what I expected to find when I entered Edward's bathroom, but it certainly wasn't this.

Products of all varieties cover every available surface of the pedestal sink, toilet back, and bathtub. Musty towels hang off the hook fixed to the bathroom door. An empty roll of toilet paper greets me when I sit down to pee, and my bare foot squishes uncomfortably in the sopping wet shower mat.

Edward is a fucking slob.

I find a spare towel bundled up under the sink and say a silent prayer before stepping into the shower.

He has every flavor of Axe body wash under the sun in here, and half of them are empty. I toss out their carcasses with a growl of frustration and squirt a dollop of the least offensively-scented one in my hand. Lathering my palms together, I begin the difficult task of scrubbing the shame of last night's utter failure away.

Though I still have zero recollection of the events that took place beyond my first tequila shot, knowing me, I most certainly have plenty to be embarrassed about. Edward was probably refuting my drunken advances all night, although he didn't seem very upset at all this morning. I know I would be if some weirdo kept trying to fondle me without my permission.

Groaning in mortification, I turn my back to the spray and begin soaping my front. As my fingers trace over my abdomin, I jerk my hand back in surprise when I find a tender spot at my ribs. The sight of the nasty bruise forming there sends an unpleasant clip from last night forward in my brain – a flashback that is so blurry and tilted that I instantly feel nauseous and have to lean heavily against the tiled wall to steady myself.

" _Go get him!" Alice laughs as she pushes me forward, sending me stumbling in my heels. Wobbling unsteadily, I unceremoniously crash my hip into the high-top table Edward and his friends occupy._

" _Shit, are you okay?" Edward asks, face contorted in concern as he leaves his barstool and grips my bicep in an attempt to steady me._

" _What?" I laugh, not even feeling the blossoming pain my ribs. "Wow, it's really you."_

" _It is," Edward replies, brows drawn low over his eyes. "You're wasted."_

" _Maybe." I giggle, turning unsteadily and wrapping my arms around his trim waist. "What are you gonna do 'bout it?"_

" _Sit you down." Edward chuckles, peeling my arms away. "Get you some water." He continues, cupping my ribs and lifting me easily onto his vacated seat. "Stay here," he warns, shaking his head when I pout childishly in response. "I'll be right back."_

"Fuuuuck," I groan, knocking my head several times against the wall in an act of self-punishment.

I really hope that's the worse it got. However, seeing as I am currently in Edward's shower and not mine, I sincerely doubt that. In fact, I'm sure it got much, much worse.

"Kill me now." I moan, fisting wet clumps of hair in frustration.

My tormented lamentations are interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Um, Bella?" Edward's voice calls over the spray of the shower. "You okay in there?"

"Yes!" I answer, trying to mask the sheer panic in my voice. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Edward replies after a brief pause. "I, um, left some clothes out for you on my bed ... just in case you'd prefer to wear something other than your dress from last night."

"Um, thanks," I reply, pushing my hair back and turning into the spray.

I guess that solves that problem.

-infatuation-

"There she is," Garrett says, sitting up from his slumped over spot on the couch. "I thought Edward was going to eat his own arm waiting for you out here." Then, pausing, he assesses me shrewdly. "Nice outfit."

"Uh, thanks?" I murmur, smoothing the shirt. I could say the same for him. He's still rocking his leopard briefs. I've got to say ... this guy has some confidence! "The clothes are Edward's."

"I thought I recognized that shirt." Garrett comments, shrugging before turning back to the TV.

"Ready?" Edward asks, emerging from the kitchen with a tentative smile.

"Yeah," I nod in affirmation. Edward extends his hand hesitantly, pressing it lightly into my shoulder as he guides me out the apartment.

"You feeling better?" He asks as we step into the elevator, dropping his hand to his side after depressing the button for the lobby.

"Yeah," I smile softly. "The shower helped."

Edward bobs his head in acknowledgment. "Good, um, that's good. I'm glad."

"Look, Edward, I ... I need to apologize for last night. Getting drunk like that, well, it's not something I make a habit of doing. I'm so embarrassed, and I feel like I've left such a horrible impression on you."

"Please," he scoffs jokingly. "You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, it should be me apologizing."

"What?" I cry, "No, you took care of me! What would you have to be sorry for?"

"Well, for one, I should have taken you home while you were still conscious. I was selfish and wanted to hang out with you more."

"Conscious?" I murmur thoughtfully, following him out of the elevator and into the lobby.

"You might have passed out at the table," Edward answers sheepishly. At my flabbergasted look, he rushes to clarify. "It's just, you were having so much fun! And so was I! I didn't want the night to end ... and then it did. Very abruptly. I don't know where you live, so I took you back to my place."

"And you put me in your bed?" I ask rhetorically.

"Yes," Edward nods. "I slept on the couch."

Evicting _Edward Masen_ from his own room? Now, that's a story for the kids. I don't know whether to be embarrassed or proud.

I settle for gratefully apologetic.

"Edward, that was so very nice of you to take care of me. You really didn't have to." And now, for the question that has been on my mind since I woke up this morning. "Where was Alice in all of this?"

"Oh," Edward's cheeks flush the most adorable shade of pink. If it wasn't so embarrassing of an act, I would have snapped a picture of it so I could view it whenever I'd like. "She, um, went home."

"Really?" I ask unnecessarily. "Without me?"

"Well, she might have been a little ... preoccupied." Edward shrugs, opening the building door and ushering me out onto the street.

"She went home with someone?" I gasp incredulously, connecting the dots. "Who?"

"Jasper," Edward clarifies, shooting me a sheepish grin. "He was there last night. They, um, really hit it off."

"Wait – _Jasper_ Jasper? Like, from Forks Four, Jasper?"

"The one and only." Edward nods, stopping in front of a small café. "This is it." He gestures toward the door.

"Oh," I smile, tucking my hands into the pockets of Edward's oversized gym shorts. "Breakfast. I almost forgot about that."

* * *

 **Is Slobward a deal breaker? Not for me. He just needs proper training. Sit boy! Down! Paw! Good boy! (:**

 **Some questions have been answered. Some more have been raised. What will happen at breakfast? Is it going to make Bella vomit? Will Garrett ever get dressed? Hmmm ...**

 **See you all next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	24. Sledgehammer

**Hiiii - ya, I know it's been a minute! I'm sorry, RL is a B right now. But, good news is I'm graduating next week with my Masters so I'll have _way_ more free time to write (: Woo! That's also on top of me getting engaged two weeks ago! So much stuff going on - I'm shocked my head hasn't exploded yet ahaha **

**Alright, I'll shut up now and let you guys get to the good stuff (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

"What's good here?" I ask Edward, flipping through the menu as I tuck my left foot underneath me and settle into the seat.

"Depends on how hungry you are," Edward answers thoughtfully.

"On a scale from one to ten?" I reply, glancing up just in time to see Edward dip his head in a nod. "I'd say I'm about a seven."

"Seven?" He clarifies, looking up from the menu through his impossibly thick and long eyelashes. My stomach tightens at the sight, and I have to look away to regain my composure. "I'd say order an omelet."

"Mmm, that actually sounds delicious." Especially if I can I have a piece of him on the side.

I bite my lip, watching Edward flip through the menu. He looks so casual in this moment. He has no fucking idea of what is going on in my mind. I don't know if that makes me sad or relieved. A little bit of both, I think.

"It does," Edward affirms with a tilt of his head. "But I'm at an even twelve, so I'm gonna go with the pancakes."

Orders taken, we peer across the table at each other.

"I can't believe I'm having breakfast with Edward Masen." I laugh incredulously after a brief pause filled with me gaping at him from across the table. "Someone pinch me."

"Yeah, well," Edward laughs, setting his water down after taking a slow pull. "No pinching necessary. I'm not exactly a household name anymore."

Although I'd never admit it aloud, it _is_ kind of true. After Forks Four broke up, Edward basically fell into nonexistence. Even now, sitting here at this café, it's clear that his celebrity has faded. I mean, _I_ know who he is, but not a single person has glanced at him with an obvious look of recognition. Instead, he's being observed with barely veiled looks of appreciation, something most hot guys get while out in public.

He's almost ... normal.

Except, he's anything but to me.

This explains why I'm finding it so hard to communicate with him right now without making an utter fool of myself.

Edward's brows pinch together as he observes my silent diatribe. Then, after letting out a slow breath, he leans forward and plops his elbows on the table, placing his hands in a steeple against his chin. "You look scared," He murmurs observationally. "Please don't be afraid to talk to me. Edward Masen might still be my name, but I'm not that guy anymore."

"I just..." I laugh embarrassedly. "I guess I'm just star struck. It's a little embarrassing to admit, but you honestly made a huge impression on my life. It's hard to separate the guy sitting in front of me now from the one who went on countless international tours."

"Five tours." Edward supplies, shrugging. "But that was a while ago. I'm not even in the music business anymore."

"No?" I ask, sitting up because this is something I've been wondering about. "What kind of business are you in, then?"

Edward smirks. "Construction."

My lips part and my mouth dries at the thought of him rocking low-rise jeans, work boots, and a hard hat while wielding a sledgehammer.

Fuck.

That's hot.

"Oh," I mutter dumbly, still stricken from my overactive imagination.

"See? Nothing glamorous here." Edward spreads his hands wide, lifting his brows for emphasis. "Just a normal guy with a normal job."

"I still don't..." I trail off, trying to figure out how to phrase this without hurting his feelings. I mean, how do you tell someone that you think they're wasting their talent? You just don't. Unless you're a total bitch ... or maybe their mother. Which I am neither – well, I am pretty bitchy when I have my period. But, I'm not due for a couple of weeks, so I don't really have that excuse to fall back on right now.

"Come on," Edward chuckles, reading the hesitant look on my face. "You can say anything to me. I can take it – I have pretty thick skin. Had to grow that real quick when Forks Four was first starting out."

"You just ... were _so_ talented. _Are_ so talented. Isn't it kind of a waste?" I blurt, covering my cheeks with my hands when they flame bright red. "Fuck, I shouldn't have said that."

I'm saved from his response when the food arrives.

Smiling politely at our waitress, he accepts his pancakes and reaches for the syrup situated in the middle of the table. After striping his pancakes with enough syrup to make my teeth ache in sympathy, he drops his hands to his lap and peers at me thoughtfully.

"You think this is the first time I've heard that?"

I don't know if that was rhetorical or not, so I just open my mouth and figuratively place my foot inside. I might have just fucked up royally.

"Relax," Edward laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for his fork. "I'm not offended."

Oh, thank God!

My lungs burn as I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I really thought I fucked up there. Why can't I control my mouth around him?

 _Let's be honest here, self. You can't control your mouth around anyone, period. Doesn't matter if it's a hot, ex-musician who is now an even hotter construction worker, or whatever he does in construction._

That's probably something I should find out – the specifics. I catalog that in my mental notebook as a question I should ask him later, when we're done being deep and reflective about Edward's musical career. I'm content to continue riding this conversational wave – for now.

"In fact," Edward continues, completely ignoring what I'm sure is my gaping fish mouth and glazed over eyes. "I find it quite flattering. So, thank you for the compliment." He punctuates his statement with a sunny smile, which reveals his gleaming white teeth and the crinkles around his eyes.

Swoon.

"Uh, no problem." I gulp, randomly cutting slices in my omelet to keep my nervous hands occupied. "If ... if you don't mind me asking ... why did you end your music career?"

Edward chews his pancake slowly, eyes squinting as he contemplates his response. I reflexively swallow when he swallows, my eyes tracing the sexy column of his throat and the tattoo that adorns it. I'm not sure what it is, but it looks like some sort of Celtic design.

"Are you asking specifically about the band? Or are you asking why I didn't continue on with music once we broke up?" His response is telling. No one really knows why Forks Four broke up. It was never released to the media. Now, I realize that the breakup and the end of Edward's music career are not synonymous.

Huh.

As a fan, I can't help but want to explore that more. I mean, when in fucking Rome, am I right?

"Either. Both. Whatever you're most comfortable sharing." I blurt, eager to hear any sort of privileged tea **.***

Come on, who doesn't like knowing shit about celebrities?

"Okay," Edward laughs, setting down his fork. "After Forks Four broke up, I started writing a solo album. I got halfway through with recording it before I scrapped it all and quit. I just ... was tired of all of it. Being 'famous,'" he drops air quotes around the word, "wasn't what everyone said it would be. It wasn't what I thought or wanted it to be. Everyone was, excuse my brashness, up my ass all the time about my solo album and all I wanted to do was take my time, hone my craft, and make it the best fucking album I had ever released. That's not what the record company wanted, though. They wanted to expedite it and release it as soon as possible to ride the PR wave of Forks Four's breakup announcement. I couldn't make myself cooperate ... so I quit. And the rest is history."

"Wow," I breathe, watching in admiration as he shrugs nonchalantly and picks up his fork to continue eating. He ended his own career to protect his art. I don't know about you, but that seems pretty noble to me.

Edward just became, like, ten thousand times hotter.

* * *

 *** tea in this instance is serving as a colloquialism for gossip, which was made popular by social media. So, in this situation,** **privileged tea would be some very high-brow, hush-hush type of gossip. Sorry, I'm a Millennial - and so is Bella - so I can't resist putting some Millennialisms in here.**

* * *

 **I just love this Bella (: Anyone else love a hot, sweaty Constructionward? Gahhh.**

 **Hoping to update again by next week if my schedule relents.**

 **xo**

 **j**


	25. Stupid and Impulsive

**Hiiiii, it's me! I'm alive and somehow breathing under the mountain of test prep I've been buried under. RL has kept me away (and honestly has not relented), but I've recently been able to make some time for myself to do what I love, which - of course - is to write. So, here I am (: Sorry to have kept you all waiting! I hope you guys haven't forgotten about this silly little tale. I'm going to have more dispensable time moving forward, so expect to see consistent updates.**

 **Now... on to the good stuff (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

"I had a really good time this morning," I say as we come to a stop in front of Edward's apartment door. "That omelet was so good."

I feel like Kevin James in _Hitch_ , waiting for Edward to signal that he wants a goodbye kiss with a jingle of his keys. Or maybe it should be me jingling the keys?

Fuck! I left mine in his apartment.

"Me too." Edward smiles, and my stomach flips. I don't think I'll ever get used to that sight. He turns fully to face me now; brow wrinkled as he rakes his fingers through his hair. I wish we could trade hands, so I could experience what is likely the buttery softness of his heavily cowlicked locks. "So, then, you're feeling better?"

Blinking, I mentally slap myself back into focus and pry open my dry lips to answer. "Oh yeah, definitely. Much better." I can't help but shift under the intensity of his gaze. Or is it the awkwardness of this moment? Dates usually end at the front door, and I still have to go back inside with him to change and grab my shit.

This is going to be interesting.

"Hmm, I'm glad," Edward murmurs, turning to unlock his door. "I was right – a little bit of breakfast was all you needed."

"So wise." I grin, following him inside.

"More like experienced." Edward chuckles, rolling his eyes as he flips the lock on his door. "I _was_ in a boy band with quite possibly the biggest drunk in the world."

Interesting. "Emmett?" I guess, taking a shot in the dark. I can't help it. As a former devout Forks Four fan, I need to know who the drunk is. It is imperative.

"No," Edward shakes his head slowly, stuffing his hands the pockets of his pants as he corrects me. "James." Then, already sensing the curiosity burning in my gut, he adds, "But I don't want to talk about that."

Shit – here I was thinking I was killing my recovery from last night, only to drop the fucking ball, once again, by being a pushy fangirl.

Commence the self-flagellation.

The silence between us yawns. Or was that me? I'm so fucking crazed because of my royal fuck up that I can hardly tell. I just know I need to get the fuck out of here – and fast – before I do more damage to the relationship he and I barely have.

"I think I'd better..." I trail off, thumbing over my shoulder toward the front door.

"Oh, right," Edward says, snapping out of whatever memory our James conversation transported him to. From the look on his face, he must have some sort of PTSD from it. Gah, why did I have to pry? That look alone is enough to fill me with regret. "You must be tired," he mutters, sounding exactly like what he assumes I am.

"Yeah," I gulp, tasting tears at the back of my throat. I didn't screw this thing up too bad, did I? Asking about James was a natural reaction. _He_ was the one to bring it up – as a joke. Nevertheless, I can't help the feeling of dread that settles into the pit of my stomach from the turn in our interaction. "I'll just change back into my clothes before I go."

"Yeah, sure," Edward nods, peering at me with an indiscernible expression. "I'm just going to grab something from my room; then it's all yours."

Fuck, what does that mean? Why did he look at me like that? Shit, this whole thing has me freaking out. I need to get out of here before my panic takes over and I do something stupid and impulsive.

I watch his broad shoulders disappear through his bedroom doorway and let out a disappointed sigh. This is why I never allow myself to have any expectations when it comes to my love life. I suck at dating. I suck at flirting. Honestly, I just plain suck.

Frowning, I drag my feet as I trail him into his bedroom. He's hunched over the bed, pawing through the mountain of blankets I'd kicked to the foot of the bed last night.

Hearing my footsteps, he explains himself as he continues his hunt. "I accidentally brought the living room TV remote to bed the other night and left it here."

"Mmmm," I hum in both understanding and appreciation as I watch his shoulders shift under the fabric of his shirt. I would give anything to have him hunched over me like he is with that fucking bed.

Through a veil of panic, my eyes follow the curve of his back, trailing down the sinewy lines until they land on his firm backside. The sight has me torn between wanting to worship his pants for cupping his ass in the most spectacular way and wanting to tear those suckers off to reveal the supple flesh that surely lies beneath.

"Found it!" Edward cries victoriously. He then pivots to face me, holding the remote to his chest like it's his most prized possession. "We haven't been able to watch TV on the couch for, like, three days. So, this is an exciting development for the apartment."

God, he's so fucking lazy.

I barely hold back my snort of derision. For three days he's not bothered to hunt down the remote, and in turn, he's inconvenienced both himself and his roommate by crippling their living room TV watching abilities.

I don't know what I want to do more: smack him upside his head or kiss the ever-loving shit out of him.

Yet, in spite of my recent discovery of this most disturbing character flaw, I find Edward no less sexy than I did just moments ago. In fact, I'd still very much like to explore every peak and valley of his body with both my hands and mouth – thoroughly and multiple times.

"I'll just ... leave you to it." Edward mutters slowly, brows drawn low over his eyes as he studies my slack-jawed and glassy-eyed expression. "I'll be in the living room – if you need me."

It's not until he's striding past me, leaving me momentarily stunned by the delicious musk that wafts from his body, that I realize this might be my last interaction with him. If I really _did_ fuck this up as much as I think I did, there is no way this dude is going to want to hang out with or speak to me again.

This leaves me with no choice.

When Plan A fails, naturally, you go to Plan B. And that's just what I'll do. Ideally, I would have preferred to fulfill my childhood fantasy the respectable way – by dating Edward and hitting those sexual milestones as time progresses. However, in light of the precocious situation I've found myself in, there is no way I'm going to be able to accomplish that.

Instead, I'm resilient and flexible. I shift approaches. I engage Plan B. I throw all caution to the wind. I _will_ live out my childhood fantasy – no matter what it takes.

I'm a different person right now. And that person reacts instantly to the smell of Edward's musk as he passes. That person doesn't even think, she acts. She lunges for him like a feral animal, wrapping her limbs around him and impeding his escape from her grasp. She presses her mouth to his with wild ferocity, lips and tongue taking what she wants.

She kisses Edward feverishly.

 _I_ kiss Edward feverishly.

I'm kissing Edward!

* * *

 **Oh... what was B saying about stupid and impulsive? Yeah... How do you guys think Edward will react?**

 **Find out next week (;**

 **xo**

 **j**


	26. Plan B

**Hiii, it's me again! I was going to post on Friday, but I was too excited to wait. So, here we are! (:**

 **Warning: this story earns its M rating in this chapter. (;**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

"I don't know what came over me!" I cry, fisting my hair in one hand while holding my cell phone to my face with the other. "I panicked ... and then I fucking attacked!"

There's radio silence on the other end for a moment before the sound of Angela's raucous laughter is transmitted to me through my phone's earpiece.

"It's not funny!" I whine, slumping onto my bed with a sigh. "This whole thing is a disaster."

"Did he at least kiss you back?" Angela manages to get out between snorts of laughter.

"Did he?" I parrot back sarcastically. "Plan B worked, Ang. It worked too fucking well."

 **-two hours ago-**

My feet literally leave the ground as I fling myself at Edward like a wild animal. I barely register the surprise on his face as I wrap both my arms and legs around his tight body before I'm fiercely smashing my lips to his.

His mouth is frozen under mine as I hold my face against his. The only thing of his that moves are his hands, which hesitantly grab me under my knees as support, even though I'm assaulting him.

"Bella?" Edward's voice is muffled as he speaks against my lips. "What are you doing?"

I pry open an eye to assess the damage, and find myself utterly unprepared for the sheer beauty of Edward's eyes up close. Pulling back to give us both space to breathe, I let out a puff of air from my lungs and squeak out a nervous laugh.

"I don't know," I breathe out uncertainly, moving to drop my legs from around his waist. This was a huge fucking mistake. Plan B utterly bombed. Either that or I did a piss-poor job executing it. I try not to let the disappointment that blooms in my chest show on my face as my feet hit the ground.

So much for making my childhood fantasy a reality.

Sure, I kissed him, but it was so humiliatingly one-sided. There is no coming back from this. I have officially ruined my chances with the man of my dreams.

Stepping out of his personal space and the bubble of intoxicating musk that surrounds him, I palm my face in embarrassment and laugh. "I'm so, so sorry. I have no idea what came over me just now ... I'll go. Yeah, I have to, um, get out of here."

"Wait," Edward catches me by the wrist as I turn to leave, stopping my hasty retreat. "Just ... wait a second, Bella."

My lips part in alarm, and, as I turn to face him, my stomach twists in knots. "What?" I mouth, my voice barely audible over the thunderous pounding of my heart.

Edward's voice is gravelly; sexy as he speaks. "Can we just ... try that again?" My eyes drop to his mouth as he glides his tongue along his bottom lip, leaving behind a moist shine I'd love to smear all over mine. "I ... You caught me off guard. I wasn't prepared the first time."

Swallowing against the desire that constricts my throat, I nod. Yes, I'd like very much for us to do that again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Edward's bottom lip disappears into his mouth as he uses the wrist he's still holding to tug me toward him. "C'mere," he murmurs, lashes low over his eyes, giving him a wanton, sultry look. My pulse is a frantic flutter in my neck as he cups the back of my head and stoops so that his forehead is pressed to mine. I barely slide my eyes shut before his lips are on mine once again, except – this time – they're plush, yielding, and very fucking alive. His first kiss is soft, hesitant as his mouth learns mine. I'm breathless as he presses a second kiss to my mouth, lips a bit firmer this time, insistent. His tongue finds my top lip on his third, tracing the seam of my lips before sliding inside and twisting with mine.

Ho-ly shit.

The man can fucking kiss.

A fire burns in my belly as I step forward, bringing us chest-to-chest. His hands fall to my hips, pulling me flush against him as he tugs my bottom lip with his teeth. Overcome with desire, our mouths press and pull frantically, hearts beating in tandem as we just about consume each other.

Yet, it isn't enough to be kissing him. I want more. Much, much more. Like slick, sweaty bodies grinding against each other in ecstasy more. Five years of unwanted celibacy be damned.

I will have this man.

Pressed firmly against his body, I fist his shirt in my hands and drag it up his body. There is nothing I want more than to feel his hot, bare flesh against mine. Lips parting from mine breathlessly, he tosses the garment to the ground and reaches down to divest me of mine. I lift my arms eagerly, knowing full-well I'm braless underneath.

"Fuck," Edward groans, blinking at the sight of my bare chest and dropping the shirt I'd borrowed from him to the ground. He's just about salivating at my wanton display, and heat spreads across my sternum in response to his reaction. "When I saw these earlier..." He trails off, biting his lip as his hands clutch my ribcage.

My skin warms under his hands, and my nipples pebble under his gaze, which feels like hot fingers feathering over my breasts. Breathless, I grasp his hands in mine and press them to my chest. "Touch me," I gasp, "Please."

I think I'll spontaneously combust if he doesn't.

Thankfully, there's no need to tell him twice. Edward's eyes drop to where his skin is pressed to mine, lip tucked between his teeth as his fingers flex against my flesh. "Perfect," he mutters, rolling the little buds between his fingers and sending waves of heat through my body.

Fuck, that feels good.

I have a fleeting thought that I could come from this alone, when the stimulation suddenly stops. In fact, Edward retracts his hands from my chest altogether.

"Wha?" I start, eyes fluttering open in confusion. My question turns to an alarmed squeak when Edward grasps me under the knees and lifts me against him, using this change in height to hungrily attach his mouth to my breast.

"Shit," I moan, shifting restlessly against the hardness I feel pressed against my inner thigh. "You're good at that."

"Mmm," he mumbles incoherently against my chest, taking a few long strides until his knees hit the bed. Lips glistening wetly, he stares up at me from his position between my breasts before he drops me unceremoniously onto the bed. I fall gracelessly, limbs flailing as I bounce; chest heaving as the wind is knocked from me. "Shit, sorry," he chuckles, crawling onto the bed after me, laving his tongue over my right nipple in apology.

"It's okay," I murmur breathlessly, fingers crawling into his thick tresses to hold him in place. "Just don't stop."

Edward murmurs something unintelligible before switching sides. Hips rolling in need, I gasp out a moan of approval as his hand slides down my body and into the front of my borrowed basketball shorts. His fingers immediately go to where I need them, slipping through the wetness he finds there before toying with my clit.

 _He does not fuck around_.

I like that.

"You're so wet," he groans against my chest, tongue reaching out to trace maddening circles around my left nipple. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," I gasp, tightening the fingers of my left hand in his hair and trailing my right along the sinewy muscles of his back.

He's so fucking sexy. Sexier than I imagined. His body is incredible, and his mouth is damn near sinful. This reality is a thousand times better than the kiss fantasy, and I haven't even gotten off yet.

In an instant, the borrowed shorts are shucked off my body, leaving me naked and shivering with nerves and excitement. His pants follow suit, revealing calves and thighs equally as toned and tattooed as the rest of his body. I let my eyes linger on the cacophony of colors before fixing my gaze on the part of his anatomy that I long for the most. I'm pleased to see that it is both a decent girth and an average length, as well as neatly groomed.

My stomach dips in approval and my knees part in invitation.

"Condom," he murmurs lowly, stroking himself as he stares intently at the needy flesh between my legs.

"Condom," I repeat, raising my brows for emphasis. As in, put one on already so we can fuck.

Smiling sheepishly, he releases himself and crawls to his nightstand. I can't help but turn my head and watch as he sheaths himself in latex, staring in wonderment at my childhood fantasy in all of his naked glory.

I can't fucking believe I'm about to sleep with Edward Masen.

Also – my earlier assessment was spot on; he's got an incredible ass.

His hips invade the cradle of my thighs, mouth dropping wet kisses along my chin and neck. "So sexy," he growls in my ear, nipping the lobe as he rocks himself against me, dick sliding teasingly over my clit.

"Ugh," I groan, feeling the delicious scrape of his chest hair against my sensitive nipples. "Just do it already. Please."

"Impatient," he smirks against my throat teasingly. Nevertheless, he presses forward with his hips and groans as he slips inside. "Fuck, you're tight," he grunts, staring down at me with heavily lidded eyes.

"It's been a while," I admit as my hips rise to meet his slow, deep thrusts. "Jesus," I sigh, dropping my head to the mattress as he cages me in his arms, hooking a knee over his elbow to drive into me deeper.

"He's not here right now," Edward grits out, eyes bouncing between the place we're joined, my jiggling breasts, and my face, which fully conveys the ecstasy he's pulling from my body. "Does that feel good?" He taunts arrogantly, mouth hot against my neck, likely tasting the salt of my sweat as his tongue traces my throat.

"Yessss," I hiss out, ending in a throaty moan when his thumb finds my clit.

"I knew it when I saw you," Edward pants, sweat beading on his forehead as his hips roll and rock me into oblivion. "All buttoned up and innocent-looking – Miss Swan." His head dips, teeth tugging at a nipple roughly, followed by the soft soothe of his tongue. "I had to have you."

I want to tell him that he gave me my first orgasm at twelve, but, instead, I surrender to the one the quick swirl of his thumb pulls out of me in the present. My body convulses with the force of it, and once the waves of pleasure ebb, my hand desperately lashes out to put an end to his thumb's maddening stimulation. Shivering from the delicious sensation, I drop my feet to the bed and turn my face into my shoulder.

"That was so hot," Edward nuzzles the skin of my exposed neck. "But, I'm not done with you yet."

He pulls himself from me and maneuvers me, as if I weigh nothing, until I'm perched on my hands and knees. "Now that's a sight," Edward murmurs wistfully, pressing his hand down onto the middle of my back as he guides himself back inside.

"You're insatiable," I groan, pushing my ass back against him.

"You're irresistible," he answers, hands roaming my back and ass as he pistons his hips against me roughly. My back arches in response to the new sensations his thrusting stirs within me, his girth stretching me deliciously.

"Don't stop," I gasp, falling forward so that my arms pillow my face. His relentless thrusts drive me deeper and deeper into the mattress, as well as bring forth the familiar twisting tug of an orgasm in my lower stomach.

"Again?" Edward pants against my neck, chest pressed against my back as his fingers reacquaint themselves with my clit. "You gonna give me another one?"

"Yesss," I hiss, eyes rolling back as his fingers roughly pluck at my most sensitive flesh. "Fuck!" I cry out suddenly, eyes rolling back as the hard pinch he gives my clit sends me over the edge.

"That's it," he moans, kneeling behind me now as he pistons against me in earnest. With his large hands clutching the soft skin of my ass, he delivers one more hard, sharp thrust before collapsing against my back.

We lay still against each other, hearts thrumming in tandem, as we catch our breath. And then, breathing out a soft chuckle, Edward lifts himself off me and moves to the edge of the bed.

"Wow," he laughs, raking his hands through his thoroughly mussed hair. "That was unexpected."

 **-two hours later-**

"So, you had panic sex?"

"Yes!" I cry, falling back against my bed and covering my eyes with my forearm. "I panicked and seduced him! It was amazing, but now I'm not sure where we stand."

"Are you satisfied with leaving it at this?" Angela asks, already knowing my answer.

"No, of course I'm not satisfied. I want more." I whine, adjusting my legs and feeling a slight twinge of soreness between them.

"She gets a good dicking and suddenly wants a relationship. Such a girl." Angela drones, mocking me for my seemingly stupid line of thought.

"Hey!" I cry, ready to defend myself, but she cuts me off.

"You have his number – use it. You want more – get it." At my frustrated sigh, she continues. "It's really quite simple, Bella. You already know he's into you."

Sure, he's into me, but does that attraction go beyond sex?

I'm almost afraid to find out the answer.

* * *

 **Those in favor of panic sex, say aye!**

 **See you next week (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	27. Cliche Text Messages

**Hi All - it's been a bit since I've posted and I apologize. RL has been very busy, with the end of the school year and my summer trip to Spain. I finally have some free time to dedicate to writing (: I am so excited to see what you guys think!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

That foul mantra echoes in my mind as I wade delicately through the media center tables, finding an empty seat beside the person I'm not so anxious to speak to this morning.

Confrontation really isn't my forte.

"Way to be late," Alice murmurs over her Styrofoam cup of shitty coffee, which administration is sure to roll out during school faculty meetings. "Oversleep again?"

"Something like that," I growl, flipping open my notebook and jabbing my pen against the table to click it.

"Well, you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Alice comments dryly, placing her hand over mine to still my pen's incessant tapping. "What's your deal? Didn't you get laid this weekend?"

"Yeah, well, with no help from you," I simper as my principal stops her droning rant to fiddle with her laptop, claiming technical difficulties yet again. "I had to fend for myself because _somebody_ pulled a disappearing act on me."

"Wait, _you're_ mad at _me_ now?" Alice says, incredulously. "I did you a favor, and you got what you wanted, didn't you?"

"It's not about that," I can't keep the sneer out of my voice. "It's girl code. You can't leave a drunk friend behind at a bar. That's careless and dangerous. For all you know, Edward could have been planning to kill me."

"That would be a valid reason to be upset with me," Alice drawls, tracing a pattern over the tabletop with her finger, "except you were the one who left me."

"Oh," I reply dumbly, mouth hanging open in aghast.

Shit, now _I'm_ the asshole here.

"Yeah, so you should be the one apologizing right now," Alice punctuates her statement with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I'm sorry," I automatically reply. "I honestly had no idea. Edward said you went home with Jasper, so I just assumed that you left prior to me passing out at the bar."

"No, I was witness to that," Alice chuckles, rolling her eyes. "You were so drunk. Edward wanted to take you back to your place but I couldn't remember your apartment number. He assured me he would take you to his place and put you right to bed with no attempts at funny business. Garrett said he'd make sure of it. They seemed sincere, and I was equally as wasted, so I agreed."

"You met Garrett?" I can't help but ask, trying to mentally block the image of him strutting around in his leopard undies and failing.

"Nice guy," she shrugs.

"Sure," I gulp, "he has odd taste in underwear."

"Wait! What?" Alice's voice is so loud and shrill I have to cup my hand over her mouth to muffle her outburst. A few of our colleagues turn to glare at us in response, and we both shrug apologetically. After a few moments of silence, Alice turns to me and conspiratorially hisses through her teeth, "I thought you slept with Edward?"

"I did," I admit, feeling heat bloom in my cheeks at the thought of it alone. His hands. His body. His mouth. The things he did and said to me with it.

Goosebumps rise on my skin at the memories and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"How the fuck do you know all this about Garrett's underwear then, sicko?" Alice's words are harsh, but her tone is teasing, like she's barely holding back a laugh.

"Apparently, he has a proclivity for walking around the house in them," I confess, palming my face in mortification. "I can't fucking get the image of him spilling out of leopard-print briefs from my mind. It's burned into my brain."

"Gross," Alice pulls a face in disgust, then, smirking devilishly, she amends her statement with an evil question meant to disturb me further. "Did you get a look at his package? How big was he? A guy that confident has to be rocking a fucking piece."

"Ew," I whine. "I hate you."

"You don't," Alice smirks, patting my hand with false sympathy. "This coffee is shit," she mutters moments later after taking another pull from her cup.

"It always is," I sigh, dropping my chin to my palm. "You keep getting it regardless."

"It's like the theme of my life." Alice sighs, staring into the cup wistfully, in hopes the contents suddenly become drinkable. "Knowing something's shit, but still going for it."

"Tell me about it," I grumble. "At least you're changing the game with Jasper, right?"

"We shall see," Alice frowns. "We just met, so he hasn't had much opportunity to show me what he's like. Either way, he's hot as shit."

"I feel you on that one." I snort into my palms as I roughly rub them over my face. "Edward's kind of a slob, but he's been really nice and considerate so far."

"He's a man, what do you expect?" Alice rolls her eyes for emphasis. "Have you spoken to him since you guys...?" She trails off, making an uncouth finger-in-hole gesture with her hands.

"You are so mature," I snort, shaking my head before sobering. "No," I frown, pushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. "I texted him to tell him I got home safely, but we haven't spoken since. I thought about texting him again, but then I started to overthink it."

"Oh," Alice scowls. "You think it was a fuck-and-duck?"

"I ... uh ... I hope not." At my unsure response, Alice smiles sympathetically.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I whine. "Hope he reaches out to me? Text him in a few days? He's Rosalie's uncle, and she's one of my students. This is already unprofessional as fuck, so I can't, like, ruin it all by being super clingy."

If I want it to be more than this one time, I need to figure this shit out.

-infatuation-

I've just delivered my students to the parent pick-up area when I'm descended on by a tall, willowy blond woman.

"Miss Swan?" Her voice carries a thick European accent I can't quite place.

"Er, yes, how can I help you?"

At my admission, her face breaks into a smile that is magazine cover-worthy. She is that gorgeous. "It is _so_ nice to meet you. I planned to come to open house, but I had a photo shoot scheduled out of the country, so I was unable to attend."

So, she's the parent of one of my students, and a model at that. Not shocking considering how stunningly gorgeous she is. All that flowing blond hair combined with her clear blue eyes, angular features, and naturally bee-stung lips.

"So, I thought I'd take this opportunity to introduce myself properly. I'm Irina Denali-Masen, Rosalie's mother." I swallow and force a smile as I take her extended hand in mine. I should have known. Rose is practically a carbon copy of her mother.

"What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. Rosalie is such a bright young girl. She is a pure joy to teach." Irina's face splits into a thrilled grin as she grips my hand with both of hers and shakes eagerly.

"Oh, Rosalie is just so enamored with you." Irina's eyes sparkle as she admits this, grinning from ear to ear. "You're all she talks about when she comes home. I just had to meet you. All of the activities you do with the tablets – your curriculum is miles ahead of her old school. It's very impressive."

"Oh, thank you." I smile, feeling pride surge in my belly. Flattery will get you everywhere with me. "We try to integrate technology into the curriculum as much as possible. It makes lessons way more engaging and accessible."

"Certainly," Irina nods in agreement. "I'd love to tour your classroom at some point this year. Rosalie just gushes about how it is arranged. I asked my husband to take pictures when he came for open house, but you know men, they hardly ever listen."

My pulse throbs in my throat.

My vision blurs.

The world tilts, throwing me off balance.

With labored breaths, I stare at Irina incomprehensibly. My brain lags, and my lips part as I try to process what she's just said.

"I'm sorry, did you say, husband?" I rasp through my panic-stricken breaths.

"Yes," she replies, brow furrowed uncertainly as she takes in my confusion. "Edward Masen – tall brunette with tattoos. He did introduce himself, didn't he? He told me he did."

"Oh," I choke out, feeling as if someone's just slapped the ever-loving shit out of me.

Husband.

As in, her life partner. The person she's married to.

Edward.

I feel faint.

I want to scream.

I want to run away like a coward.

I don't do any of those things.

"Right, yes," I manage to choke out, forcing a pleasant smile on my face. "Edward Masen. He did introduce himself, excuse me – it's been a long day." Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I blink them away because I'm a fucking adult and I won't cry in front of this woman.

"I'm sure," she smiles, understandingly, grasping my elbow sympathetically. "You guys are saints for choosing the profession you did. It must be so hard to do what you do and still maintain a smile at the end of the day."

Her touch, although friendly and sympathetic, makes my stomach twist in disgust. Not disgust with her – she's charming and beautiful and innocent and totally clueless as to what occurred between her husband and me. Although she's married to the man I desire and that categorically makes her my competition, I can't find it in myself to dislike her. In fact, I dislike myself in this situation. I can't believe I was stupid enough to fall for Edward's fucking lie, which, in turn, made me an accomplice in his cheating.

That's just something I can't condone. Especially when his wife is as incredible as Irina is. I'd have liked to pursue a friendship with her if the sight of her didn't fill me to the brim with guilt.

I honestly might puke.

"It's all worth it when we have students like Rosalie and parents like you." I grind out, staring at her perfect button nose the whole time because I can't bring myself to look her in the eyes.

"That is just so sweet," Irina preens, squeezing my arm lightly before releasing me from her hold. "No wonder Rosalie is so taken with you."

"Thank you," I reply woodenly, barely choking back tears. "I'm sorry, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have a grade-level meeting in a few minutes."

"Of course!" Irina exclaims, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry to have held you back from your meeting. I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you so much for talking with me. I will be in contact soon to schedule a classroom tour for whenever is most convenient for you."

"No worries," I manage a watery smile. "I look forward to speaking with you again."

Her hopeful smile breaks my heart. If only she knew what I had been up to with her husband.

Men are so fucking sick and it seems even Edward – someone who came across so sweet and understanding – isn't immune. I just can't believe I didn't see this coming. I mean, who sends their kids to an open house event with an uncle? It gave me pause at first, and I wish I had listened to my instincts at the jump. But I was too blinded by Edward's celebrity to see that he was clearly deceiving me.

Well, that's not going to happen anymore. I refuse to be blinded by his good looks, charm, and the power he's held over me since I was a preteen. No, he will not get away with this. Not on my fucking watch.

By the time I make it back to my classroom, I'm fuming! Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think it would take such a turn. This … right here … is not fantasy; it's a fucking nightmare.

My fingers shake as I snatch my phone from my desk drawer and hurriedly unlock it. Anger boils in my gut as I tap to open our text thread and stare down at the flirty messages I unknowingly exchanged with a married man. The father of one of my favorite students.

I could spit, I'm so angry.

Instead of ruining my carpet with my saliva, I let my thumbs fly over my cell phone keyboard. Staring at the composed message, I swallow against the lump in my throat before hitting send.

 **We need to talk.**

Here we go.

* * *

 **Hmm, it seems Edward's been untruthful. What do you guys think? Do we trust Irina? Or do we think Edward's been truthful?**

 **I'm sorry, I couldn't resist inserting a little bit of conflict. I'm not really a fluffy person, but I promise you this particular conflict will resolve itself very quickly. Also, before anyone jumps ship: THIS IS NOT A CHEATING STORY. That being said, I'd love to hear what you guys think (:**

 **See you all next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	28. No Shit

**Hi guys - I'm so happy to see that you all are still here with me and ready to ride it out despite being very confused. I'm of the mindset that there's no fun in predictability. Consider yourself warned haha (:**

 **That being said, I hope you all feel a little less "in the dark" after this chapter. Can't wait to see what you guys think!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

A growl escapes my throat as I check my cell phone for what seems to be the hundredth time. Yet, no matter how many times I check it, the result remains the same.

He's late.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I mutter to myself as I slump back in my seat.

Edward seemed curious but willing to talk in his response to my text. We arranged to meet at this café for coffee. So, here I am waiting, and he's nowhere to be found.

The phone only rings once before Angela picks up at the other end.

"This is Angela," she answers, wearing the calm, formal voice she reserves for business dealings.

"He's late, Ang." I don't bother with formalities, opting to get right to what's bothering me.

"Oh," she snorts, now sounding distracted. "It's you."

"Of course, it's me," I reply, only slightly offended by her response. "Didn't you look at the caller ID before answering your phone?"

"I'm at work, Bella," she supplies with a sigh.

"On a Saturday?" I ask incredulously. "It's the weekend!"

"Weekends don't exist during tax season," Angela suddenly sounds tired. "But please, I need a distraction from the clusterfuck I'm currently dealing with; give me an update on the Edward situation."

"We arranged to meet today to talk," I sigh, rolling the edges of the napkin my quickly-cooling coffee sits on top of. "But he's late."

"How late is he?"

"About 20 minutes." I don't even try to keep the growl of contempt out of my voice.

"That's not too bad, though. The way you're acting, you'd think he's an hour late." I want to smack her for being so dismissive.

"It's the principle, Angela! He's wasting my time!" My voice raisesan octave as shreds of destroyed napkin flutter from my fingers to the table.

"Okay," Angela drawls slowly, processing the situation. "You're nervous about confronting him about this, so you're clearly freaking out."

"Yes!" I hiss, dropping my forehead to the tabletop in an effort to cool down my rapidly-heating face. "You know how I am with confrontation."

"You never did have the stomach for it," she murmurs wistfully, surely remembering – like I am – the number of occasions she fought my battles for me, literally and figuratively speaking. Then, after a quiet moment of reflection, Angela speaks again with a sigh. "You're not going to go through with it, are you?"

"Ang, I'm freaking out," I murmur, swallowing against the anxiety that tightens around my throat. "I can't even remember what I practiced saying to him."

"Think about why you're here. He cheated on his wife with you. He lied about his kid being _his_ in order to manipulate you. Do you want to let it go; let him get away with what he's done?"

Angela's recap of the situation has my free hand clenching into a fist atop the café table. "No, he's a fucking asshole for roping me into this messy-ass situation."

"That's right!" Angela cheers me on as my anxiety is quickly usurped by my fury. "Fuck him!"

"Yeah, he let me fuck him when he was married to someone else!" I rush out, feeling my heart race as I flush with anger. "It's not right."

"He's a fucking douche!" Angela bellows into the phone, further amping me up.

"An asshole!" I cry out, voice dying out at the end as Edward interrupts my hype session with Angela by striding into the café.

"Shit, he's here," I hiss into the phone, lowering my voice conspiratorially. He stops at the entrance and shoves his hands into his pockets as he scans the expanse of the café slowly. The moment he spots me, his lips quirk up in a half-smile before he nods his head toward the cash register to indicate he's going to make his purchase before joining me at the table. "My God, he's so fucking hot," I murmur, watching as he eats up the space between him and the register with long, confident strides.

"Don't get distracted," Angela scolds. "His hotness does not negate the fact that he's an asshole cheater."

"Right," I sigh, tearing my eyes away from his tight backside. The tight backside I saw in all its naked glory the day he made me an accomplice in his duplicitous actions. "What do I say? How do I even start this conversation?"

"I say come right out with it. No sense in beating around the bush." After a pause, Angela snorts back a laugh and continues dryly. "Not after he's beat around a bush that's not his wife's. _Your_ bush at that."

"Ang, I'm serious!" I whine, glancing over in time to catch Edward watching me with a slight frown. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can," Angela assures me. "Talk to him like he's one of your students; one who's done something wrong and needs to be disciplined."

"Hmm," I reply, picturing how I handled that exact situation not two days ago. Calm voice, matter-of-fact approach, and a focus on the impact of the student's actions. "That might work."

"You see," Angela says, brimming with support. "You got this."

"I've got to go," I tell her, watching as Edward accepts his coffee from the barista before turning in my direction. "He's headed this way."

"Good luck," she cries. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Oh God, I'm so glad you're not here right now." I laugh, biting into my bottom lip as Edward places his coffee on the table before pulling out the chair across from mine. "I'll talk to you later, Ang."

"Byeee," she sings before I end our call.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Edward asks, voice melodic as he gracefully drops into his seat. I avoid his eyes as I shake my head, swallowing before I croak out an unsteady "no."

"Okay, good." Edward smiles faintly before sobering. Letting out a sigh, he scrubs his hands through his hair and speaks in a tense voice. "I know you said you wanted to talk, but I want to be upfront about this before you start. I, uh, kind of had a feeling this was coming. I just want to say that I'm not looking for a girlfriend right now."

I immediately blanch at his hurried assertion. "No shit," I reply, anger coloring my words. "You're fucking married."

"What?" He snorts, his expression revealing amused confusion. "I'm not married."

"No way," I snap back. "I won't be distracted by your charm. I met your wife at school the other day; Irina Denali-Masen? Yeah, we had a nice little talk about your _daughter_ – _my student –_ Rose. The funny thing was, I thought she was your _niece_ the whole time. Wonder where I got _that_ idea!"

I'm hot and panting by the time I'm done with my verbal lashing. Edward regards me quietly, face stony and unreadable. After a moment, he lets out a deep sigh before reaching across the table for my hand. Alarmed that he'd have the audacity to touch me after I called him out, I snatch my hand from his and pettily move both of mine out of his reach by placing them in my lap.

"Look," he sighs again, retracting his hand in defeat. "I'm sorry I lied to you about Rose. You're right to be upset with me about that, I really fucked up on that front. But, you're wrong about something. I'm not married – Irina and I split up two years ago."

"But, Irina said –"

Edward cuts me off. "Yeah, I'm sure she called me her husband. She's under the impression that as long as I'm not with someone else, I'm still hers to claim. I'm going to have to talk to her about that – again."

"Okay," I drawl, still processing what he's said. "That still doesn't explain why you lied to me about Rosalie."

"I just," he groans, staring down at his hands, which have a white-knuckle grip around his coffee cup. "I'm a very private person. I don't like my personal business being available for public consumption. If you Google my name, it's like I've disappeared into thin air ever since the band split. That's how I like it, and I'd like to keep it that way for the foreseeable future."

Chewing my bottom lip, I mull over what he's said. It makes sense. There have been many times in the past, in which I have looked him up to be met with disappointment when I can find nothing about his current whereabouts or affairs.

But still, I find myself questioning his logic. Something doesn't add up.

"I can understand your need for privacy, but, Edward, you, yourself, said that you're no longer a household name." My stomach churns as I say this, hating to point out the fact that the person I've held on a pedestal for so many years has lost all of the fame and celebrity that put him there in the first place. "So, this wouldn't exactly be hot gossip."

"Maybe so," Edward shrugs, face still guarded. "But it's what I do when people recognize me, and clearly you did. Looking back on it, I realize it was fucked up to do since you're my kid's teacher. I wish I could go back and tell you the truth from the start, but there's nothing I can do now but apologize. I'm sorry for lying to you, Bella."

Swallowing, I acknowledge his apology with a quiet, "thank you," and say nothing more as I take a moment to process what he's told me. Lying about being Rosalie's father is a dick thing to do, but I can see he had good intentions in doing so. Say someone does sell that information to the media, it has the potential to bring unwanted attention to him and his family. However, seeing as I am his kid's teacher, it wouldn't be in my best interest to do something like that. I mean, I would be fucking with my own livelihood by selling out to the media. He should have realized that, as he said, and opted for telling me the truth upfront.

Clearly, he's paranoid as fuck, and I can't help but tell him as much.

"Honestly, though, I think you're being overly paranoid." That's a lot coming from me, Bella of the House Swan, the First of Her Name, Queen of Anxiety and Protector of Panic.

Edward regards me quietly for a moment before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a long, slow pull. He places it back on the table calmly and then lifts his eyes to mine as he addresses my comment. "To you, it might seem like I am. But you would do the same if you went through what I did."

Checkmate.

He's right. I have no idea what it's like to be famous. Therefore, I can't really judge him based on the things he does as a result of that fame.

He has effectively silenced me.

* * *

 **Well, do you guys agree with his logic? Where do these two go from here?**

 **See you guys soon (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	29. Make An Appointment

**Hi all - happy Tuesday! Sooooo I had my first ever surgery last week, which is why it took me a bit to post. Thankfully, I'm completely fine! I feel so lucky to be healing and recovering very quickly, so expect updates to be regular (:**

 **Now, on to the good stuff!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I'm making myself a meager dinner of eggs and toast when my phone starts its incessant buzzing from its perch on the kitchen island. Pausing my aggressive buttering, I lean backward to check the screen and hastily swipe my finger across it to accept Angela's FaceTime.

"Hello beautiful," Angela grins up at me from my phone.

"Wow, she leaves the office," I quip, smirking down at her as I finish buttering my toast.

"Please, let's not talk about that. I'm in literal hell. How did it go with Mr. Masen? I need the deets! This is the most entertainment I've had in months." I take a moment to observe what little I can see of her appearance through the phone screen. Her springy curls are in disarray, and the bridge of her nose is bright red at the point where her glasses typically sit. She certainly looks like she's been having a rough day.

"What happened to that guy you were seeing? The lawyer?" I ask before taking a massive bite of my toast.

"Jim?" She pulls a face. "I'd rather endure year-round tax season than go on another mind-numbingly dull date with him."

"Aw, but he seemed promising!" Angela scowls at my exclamation. "You said he was good looking, right?"

"And that's about all he was. Wouldn't stop talking about his mother. After two dinners filled with gushing over the woman, I almost asked him for her number!"

"You disturb me," I chuckle, shaking my head at her antics. "Well, at least you had two free dinners."

"Sure, as if I need that sort of thing," she frowns. "Now, enough about me. Tell me how it went with Edward. What did he have to say for himself?"

I recount our conversation around mouthfuls of egg and toast, sparing no detail. By the time I finish, Angela is scowling.

"I felt so fucking stupid," I groan, placing my dirty plate in the dishwasher.

"Don't," Angela asserts. "How are you supposed to know all of this? It's his fault for not being honest in the first place. You had no choice but to jump to conclusions."

"I guess," I shrug, bracing my hands on the kitchen island as I stare down at my phone. "I still can't believe what a mess this has turned out to be."

"Not your fault," Angela sings. "So, what was the outcome? Are you guys done now?"

"It's kind of up in the air," I frown. "But, we're definitely not dating. I'm pretty sure he thought I was asking him for coffee to discuss our relationship status. He started the conversation off by telling me he's _not looking for a girlfriend right now_."

"Douche move, but at least he's honest," Angela sighs. "It's time to face the music, Bella. That definitely was a one-time hook up for him, albeit a little messy. I mean, who just up and fucks their kid's teacher?"

"It's messy on both of our parts. I mean, I was the one who initiated it." The words leave a bitter taste on my tongue. I should have known better. Sleeping with a student's relative is extremely irresponsible and unprofessional. Yet, the fact that Edward is who he is still has me willing to look the other way.

"Clearly, neither of you were thinking straight," Angela laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "Then again, I totally encouraged it, so I'm as much at fault as you are."

"We're all fucked," I laugh, not the least bit amused. The realization that this is the end of my ... _whatever-this-is_ with Edward has figuratively taken the wind out of me.

"Did he give any indication that he wanted to talk to or see you again beyond the whole 'I don't want a girlfriend' thing?" Reading my mood, Angela attempts to find some sort of positivity to cling to from my conversation with Edward.

"Well, he did tell me 'see you later' when we said goodbye. He wouldn't say that if he didn't intend to see me again, right?" I allow myself to say this because I feel comfortable enough with Angela to crazily overanalyze every word Edward said.

Hey, everyone's done it, right?

"I don't know..." Angela trails off, pinched facial expression saying it all. "I don't think you should read too much into that. I mean, I say it all the time to people I'd rather not see again. Hell, I said that to Jim before I ghosted him."

"Great," I groan. "He, for sure, never wants to speak to me again."

"I mean, I wouldn't jump to extremes either! He _did_ agree to meet up with you. If he was going to do the full fuck-and-duck, he would have just ignored your cryptic 'we need to talk' text. I mean that text was as subtle as a punch in the face."

Angela does have a point.

"Maybe he just wants to be friends?" I say, feeling dread well up in my belly at the thought. I don't know if I can stomach that after having slept with him. I would constantly be torturing myself with the memories, wanting more but being unable to pursue it.

No, that's not an option for me.

"Could be," Angela says, walking through her house by the looks of the moving scenery beyond her head. "Would you be okay with that?"

"I..." I start, frowning as I think about voicing my musings on the topic. At the risk of sounding greedy, I confess. "I don't think so. I mean, the sex was so incredible. I don't think I can look at him in a friendly manner after being witness to that."

"I understand," Angela says solemnly, her movement coming to a stop before she begins rustling around with something off camera. "I don't think I could either."

"Do you think this means I suck in bed?" I can't help but address my insecurities. If he wants to be friends and friends only, then he doesn't want a repeat of what transpired between us in his room. He must not have liked what I had to offer.

"Oh, I don't think so, Bella," Angela frowns, face pinched and neck red as she shakes her head in denial. "Beyond that one time with Demetri, you've had no complaints."

"Please don't bring that up," I groan, refusing to even think about what occurred the sole time I attempted to hook up with my college algebra TA. "I'd prefer to pretend that never happened."

"But it's so funny!" Angela crows, letting out a peal of raucous laughter. "If you can't laugh at yourself, then what is even the point?"

"Okay," I unwillingly admit. "It was a little bit funny."

"A little?" Angela bursts, eyes watering as she struggles to speak through her cackling. "You nearly bit his dick off! He was walking weird for weeks!"

"It was my second time ever giving head," I explain with exasperation. "I was afraid he'd kick me out of his room if I told him as much! I should have, though, because that was – and still is – the biggest dick I've ever fucking seen."

"Monster cock!" Angela screeches, tears now freely streaming down her face as we repeat the conversation we've had countless times on the subject. She must know the story by heart by now, but she finds it exceedingly hysterical nonetheless. "From Russia!"

"He throws me down on the bed," I continue narrating through Angela's boisterous laughter. "Takes his fucking pants off –"

Angela interrupts, " _Leather pants!"_

"Takes his fucking leather pants off," I continue, choking back laughter. "And straddles my fucking face."

"So fucking _weird_ ," Angela keens, tears streaming down her bright red face.

"That thing was bigger than my head," I snort. "He looks down at me and is like –" I snort now, remembering the look on his face as he commands me. "'Suck it' in his thick-ass accent. He was so fucking hot –"

Angela interrupts again with her commentary, "So hot, but so weird!"

"And I fantasized about fucking him all semester!" I cry through the giggles that wrack my body.

"That bulge!"

"Oh my God, that bulge! I should have known he was packing a fucking monster cock in those leather pants he so loved wearing. I tried not to look that thing in the eye as I put it in my mouth."

"The eye!" Angela cries, working herself back up into hysterics.

"It was like he crammed his whole fist in my mouth. I kept thinking that we were definitely going to need lube and please God don't ask me to do anal! I was so focused on relaxing my jaw muscles that I didn't realize he was winding up for a thrust. Next thing I know, he's surging forward into my throat – dick to tonsils – and I'm fucking choking! Of course, I bit down – it was a reflex!"

"He was so mad!" Angela giggles, eyes shut against the tears her laughter pushes from them. "He literally scowled at you for the rest of the semester."

"I almost failed that class!" I cry out in disdain. "But, you should have heard him when it happened. Squealed like a little fucking girl. That's what he gets for wielding that thing without care for his partner."

"Amen!" Angela nods in agreement.

That's when I see it.

"Angela," I murmur, staring at the shiny white tile that adorns the wall behind her head. "Are you on the toilet?"

Her lips curl up in the corners before she tilts her phone down to capture her naked bottom-half positioned delicately on her porcelain throne. "Yup," she laughs. "And it smells terrible."

"Ew," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You're so nasty. I'm hanging up on you now – bye."

-infatuation-

It's Thursday, five days since I spoke to Edward last. But that's not all that has me bent out of shape. I'm at war with myself over the text Alice just sent me.

 **Jasper asked me out. We're going to dinner tonight.**

I scowl at my phone before dropping it down on the couch cushion beside me. As much as I want to, I can't hate her for getting to live out my fantasy. It's not her fault, and she shouldn't have to keep her excitement to herself in order to spare my feelings. It's not fair or right of me to ask her to do that.

I opt to ignore the bitterness that blooms in my stomach and reach over for my phone to wish her good luck. There – being a good friend to her assuages some of the annoyance I feel at Edward's silence.

If I'm being honest with myself, I need to just grow up and move on. This clearly isn't going anywhere, and sleeping with a student's parent is super messy. Edward is just plain confusing, and my obsession with him is verging on unhealthy.

Settled in my decision, I grab a beer from the kitchen before snuggling up on the couch with the TV blaring a rerun of Game of Thrones, and my new Tinder profile pulled up on my phone. I think I just need to fuck him out of my system.

I'm mulling over which outdated, college, spring break bikini picture I should put as my main image when activity on my TV rips away my attention.

"Jesus," I murmur, mouth agape as my eyes roam over Jon Snow's firm backside as he rolls atop Daenerys and begins rhythmically thrusting into her. "I see you, HBO."

Phone forgotten, I give into my perverted instincts and rewind the scene several times, wishing I could see more than just Jon's bitable ass. His body is so incredible that I have to wonder if it is truly his or CG'd. Either way, it has me totally enthralled and very much distracted.

I'm on my fourth re-watch of the scene when my phone vibrates against my leg, drawing my attention away from my perversion. I glance at it in annoyance as I chug the rest of my beer and nearly choke on the dregs when I realize who my incoming text is from.

Edward.

I'm even more startled when my fumbling fingers finally get our text thread open to reveal his message.

 **Wanna hang out this weekend?**

Swallowing against the burning sensation the beer leaves in my throat, I try not to get my hopes up as I tap out my response. This is a test – his reply will tell me all I need to know about his intentions.

 **Is this you making an appointment for a booty call?**

I'm getting myself a second beer to help calm my nerves when his reply comes through. I nearly stumble over my feet in my haste to get from my kitchen to the living room, where my phone waits for me on a couch cushion.

Sighing, I unlock my phone and stare down at the one-word response that waits for me.

 **No**

Then, before I can overthink it, the little dots pop up to indicate that he's typing more. My phone vibrates in my hand as two more texts appear before my eyes.

 **Yes**

 **Are you offended?**

Staring down at my phone screen, I contemplate his question. Am I offended? I think I would be more so if he had no interest in sleeping with me again.

Am I okay with this being all we have?

That remains to be seen.

I hardly have experience, relationship-wise, to navigate this situation. I've never had a purely sexual, fuck buddy connection, nor have I had a long-lasting, feelings-riddled romantic relationship. Sure, I've slept with guys in the past, but they've either been short-lived, shallow relationships or the one-and-done variety hook ups.

Will I develop feelings for him beyond what an association of this nature calls for?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I've spent enough time with him to gather that he is very guarded. Be it a symptom of fame or not, I don't think I could ever have feelings for someone who doesn't seem to be able to open up emotionally.

So, again, am I okay with this being all we have?

Seeing him for what he is – a normal guy with unknown, abnormal, emotional damage related or not related to his growing up in the public eye – I go into this with eyes wide open.

 **Sure, but you're coming to me this time**

I'm definitely not interested in giving Garrett another show, nor do I want to be subjected to that messy apartment again.

His reply is instantaneous.

 **Deal!**

* * *

 **Anyone else get all hot n bothered watching Jon Snow inadvertently give it to his aunt? Awkward situation, sexy actor. Anywayyyyy,** **I know some of you guys are going to be annoyed with Bella's decision. Do you think it is going to work out?**

 **Also - if you haven't already, go and check out the entries for the Crime Crusaders Contest put on by Pay it Forward in honor of Rob being casted as our newest Batman. Be sure to vote for your top 3 before July 31 (:**

 **See you next time!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	30. Born-Again

**Hi! I'm back and you already know the spiel. I'm a teacher, so free time for writing is sporadic. As it stands, I think I can swing weekly postings, but I can't necessarily promise that it will be totally consistent (especially when we get into the holidays). But, I will try my best! Please don't give up on me!**

 **Now, on to the good stuff. (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

"So ... what's up?" I prompt, plopping down at the lunch table next to Alice, where she's already made herself at home. Her little pink lunchbox is puddled on the table beside a spread of tiny Tupperware containers that once held the contents of her salad.

I can't believe she goes through all that effort to separately contain her lunch ingredients only to pour them all into the same bowl when it's time to eat. It just seems pointless to me. Then again, this is coming from someone who, without fail, hastily throws together sloppy as shit PB&Js every morning.

"Living the dream," Alice chirps, stuffing leafy greens into her smiling mouth. "Oh, I saw little Rose is absent today."

"Yeah," I mumble absentmindedly as I unwrap said sloppy sandwich, "her mom emailed me this morning. She's got a fever."

"Bless her mother," Alice sighs, forking through her salad thoughtfully. "There's a special place in hell for parents who send their sick kids to school."

"Amen," I nod in agreement before chomping down on my lunch.

"Jasper and I went on another date last night," Alice blurts, causing me to nearly choke on a wad of masticated bread.

"Oh?" I croak after I manage to swallow. "What is that? Date number two? Three?"

"Two," Alice smirks. "I think he really likes me."

"That's great," I mutter, feeling a hot hand of envy crawl up my back. Swallowing quickly, I force a smile and try not to let my tumultuous feelings show in my voice or face. "What did you guys do?"

"He took me to that new sushi place. You know the one – it's just down the street from your place." Alice sighs wistfully, tapping her fork against her Tupperware. "You know ... he told me he hates raw fish, but he decided to endure it for me."

"That's big of him," I reply, fingers busy tearing the crust off my sandwich. I wish someone liked me enough to do that. Just the thought makes me sad, but, fighting the frown that wants to pull down my lips, I paste a fake smile on my face in hopes it sticks.

"I mean, he was _around_ raw fish, but he didn't eat any. He had chicken teriyaki. So, it's not really _that_ big of a deal." Alice shrugs, guiding a forkful of lettuce to her mouth. "He only went because he knows how much I love the sush."

"Still pretty thoughtful of him, though." I shrug, staring down at the torn mess resting on the table between my clenched fists.

"I know, right?" Alice sighs after taking a swig of her bottle of sparkling water. "So, um," she starts hesitantly, "have you heard from Edward?"

I had a feeling the conversation would turn to this. Now that it has, it's up to me to decide how honest I want to be.

"Yeah," I reply, swallowing against the lump that forms in my throat. "We're just ... hanging out and, uh, taking it slow right now."

I opt for the truth because coming up with some elaborate lie seems like too much effort for my brain at this point. Plus, she's seeing Jasper, who is friends with Edward, so lying will only make things awkward once she eventually learns the truth from him.

"Hmm," Alice hums thoughtfully, staring at me over her hoard of containers. "Meaning you're having casual sex."

I balk momentarily at her bluntness before letting out a short, embarrassed laugh. "Basically," I nod, gnawing at my lip. "Please, don't judge me."

"Honestly?" Alice retorts, face deadly serious. "I'm kind of jealous. I mean, at least you're having sex. Jasper is, like, some sort of born-again virgin or something. We haven't even kissed yet."

"Wait – I thought you went home with him the other night?" I ask, thoroughly confused yet highly curious to learn more about her situation.

If that's the case, maybe I don't have it so bad.

"Uh, yeah," Alice groans, leaning forward and dropping her elbows to the table as she unloads her gossip. "He realized I was completely clobbered and took me home – to my house. He even tucked me in before he left, Bella."

I can't help but let out a large guffaw at her expense. "Aw, how cute," I drone sarcastically. "What grade are you in? Sixth?"

"Please," Alice sighs, clearly frustrated. "I feel like I am." She punctuates this statement with an eye roll. "I honestly would kill to be in your situation right now. At least I'd be getting off. As is, I've been depleting my stock of batteries."

"TMI, Alice," I laugh, covering my face while trying not to mentally process or picture what that means.

"Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." She shrugs, smirking in amusement.

"Sure," I reply, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. "Well, that makes me feel a little bit better about my Edward situation. Yet ... I'm still kind of bitter because at least Jasper is, like, serious, and taking you out, you know?"

"Is that what you want? To be in a serious relationship?" All amusement is gone from Alice's face as she questions my motives.

"I honestly don't know," I reply, screwing my lips to the side. "He says he isn't interested in a relationship at the moment. He's being upfront about what he wants, and I respect that ... I just ... want him, and I know that one time with him isn't going to be enough. I want more, whether it's a relationship or ... whatever _this_ is. I can't seem to stop myself."

"Okay, so then keep hanging out with him so you can figure out what you want," Alice suggests with a shrug.

"Yeah, okay, that works for the time being. But what happens when I do figure things out?" I ask, tugging my fingers through my hair anxiously. "What happens if I want a relationship that he's unwilling to give?" I already know the answer; I just want to hear someone else voice it. I think it makes things seem more real, which then makes it easier for me to come to terms with what I want and what I'll eventually need to do.

"I would be a negligent friend if I told you to ride it out in hopes he changes his mind," Alice replies, brows raised. "So, please don't expect me to give you shitty advice like that, because I won't."

"Good," I respond, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face, "because I would never follow advice like that."

I want to say I'm telling the truth, but as it stands, I'm not sure. I hope I would never do that, as I never _have_ done that. I've never liked anyone enough to.

But, this thing with Edward is still so new.

Who knows how I'll feel when the time comes for me to make a decision about where this goes?

All I know is that I need to see this through. Whatever it is.

"I say, do what makes you happy. That's all that matters." Alice's hand finds mine across the table. "And, if the situation eventually stops working for you, get out."

"Right," I nod, swallowing as her fingers squeeze mine reassuringly. "You're right. That seems simple enough."

Yet, I have this gut feeling it won't be.

* * *

 **We have some semi-honest self-talk going on in this chapter. What do you guys think?**

 **More next Wednesday (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	31. Trusssst in Me

**I said Wednesday and it's Wednesday! (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I'm scrutinizing my pores in the bathroom mirror with the concentration of a surgeon when my phone alerts me of an incoming text.

 **Parking. Be up in 5.**

"Shit!" I exclaim, tossing my phone onto my bed as I scramble out of the bathroom. I wasted so much time obsessing over my less-than-perfect complexion that I left myself with no time to ensure my house is visitor-ready. "Shit, fuck, shit!"

I repeat this mantra as I zip from room to room, stumbling over myself as I hurriedly fluff pillows, straighten rugs, and toss errant cups into the dishwasher. Panting against the wall that separates the kitchen from my bedroom, I quickly lift both arms for a pit check before cupping my hands around my mouth to smell my breath.

All good.

But then I remember the mess I left in my ensuite bathroom. In a crazed panic, I take off down the hall and begin throwing things randomly into drawers. I'm just finishing scrubbing the toilet bowl when a firm knock echoes down the hallway.

He's here.

Satisfied with my rushed clean up job, I stride to the entryway and calmly tuck my hair behind my ears before opening the door. The sight that greets me has me grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi," Edward smiles softly, eyes crinkling as he takes me in. "I brought dinner," he shifts the take-out bag higher in his arms in offering.

"Oh," I reply smartly, startled by his thoughtfulness. I figured he'd show up, fuck me, and leave. Bringing food implies he at least wants to speak to me a little before we get down to business. I definitely won't say no to that. "Thank you, Edward. Come in – the kitchen is right through there."

My skin tightens at his proximity as he steps forward to enter my home. I'm so tempted to lean in and smell him as he passes me on his way through the doorway, but I rein myself in because he might perceive that as creepy. Instead, I shadow him down the hallway as he follows my directions to the kitchen, watching his ass shift with each step and breathing in the trail of cologne that wafts off his skin.

Do we really have to eat right now? Because I'm honestly ready to go. No foreplay necessary.

"I know it's a little presumptuous of me to get burgers," Edward murmurs apologetically as he unloads food cartons from his paper, take-out bag. "I hope you're not one of those vegans or whatever they're called."

"Nah, you're good," I smile reassuringly, watching him pop the tops of the cartons. My mouth immediately waters as two huge burgers accompanied by crispy-looking fries and a scoop of coleslaw are revealed. "Well, hello there..." I sigh in appreciation.

"That's right. You had an omelet for breakfast the other day." Edward says more to himself than to me before turning to flash me a cheeky grin. "They look fucking good, right?"

"So good." I nod in agreement as my stomach lets out an impatient gurgle.

"Well, I just picked out two that sounded good to me." Edward lifts his hand to scratch at the underside of his chin. "I know burger toppings are very personal, so I'll let you choose whichever sounds best since I'm down to eat either."

I waste no time and immediately step up to the counter to survey his offerings. After examining both burgers, I quickly choose the one that has copious cheese oozing from the sides.

"Nice choice," Edward murmurs close to my ear, making my shoulders draw up in surprise. "Sorry," he chuckles, hands lifting to cup my elbows comfortingly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"'s all right," I drawl, savoring the warm, tingly sensation the feeling of his skin against mine elicits. After drawing in a deep breath that pushes his firm chest against my back, he squeezes my arms briefly in what I assume is an acknowledgment of our mutual tingles before releasing me and stepping away.

Standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, we tuck into our food. There's no urgency in the way he eats; however, the room is cast in silence as we both chew delicately and eye each other speculatively.

"This is awkward," he murmurs after a moment, mopping up coleslaw juice with the fries he has pinched between his fingers.

"Ew," I comment on his actions after swallowing down a mouthful of food. "Coleslaw fries? That's disgusting. Also, I'm always awkward. Nothing newsworthy there."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Edward quips in response to my judgment of his strange condiment choices. "Always awkward?" He continues, peering at me from under thick lashes. "That's good of you to admit."

"It's, um," I murmur shakily, momentarily stunned by his intoxicating eye contact. There's something about those lashes and the way he lowers them over his eyes; it's absolutely hypnotizing. "It's all part of my charm."

I'm still trying to convince myself of that, but he doesn't need to know.

"Well, it's definitely not what initially drew me in," Edward drawls pensively, "but it certainly is keeping me coming back for more."

Swallowing as he fixes me with that heady stare again, I tongue my dry lips before replying. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended by that statement."

"Flattered. Definitely flattered."

I feel like Mowgli at this moment, transfixed by Kaa's hypnotizing stare, except it's Edward's lowered lids pinning me in place instead of that fuck boy snake's multi-colored, swirling eyes.

He doesn't relent one bit as he shovels the rest of his burger into his mouth, chewing noisily before tossing his soiled napkin into the take-out box with finality. I can barely finish my own meal as he leans his forearms onto the marbled countertop of the island, bearing down on me with the full force of his intense gaze.

"What?" I ask after choking down the last of the burger.

His lips lift as they take in my pink cheeks and watery eyes. "You've got a little..." He starts, gesturing to his face.

"Oh," I let out a short laugh, thoroughly embarrassed by the mess I made of myself in front of him. "Here?" I ask, lifting a napkin to my face and swiping brusquely.

"No," he smiles softly, skirting around the island quickly. "Let me," he murmurs, taking the napkin from my hand and gently wiping at my cheek. "There," he proclaims after a beat, "all better."

"Good," I smile, still embarrassed at my utter lack of decorum. "God, I'm such a mess."

"Yeah, but you're pretty cute," Edward smirks, hand dropping to the table to dispose of the soiled napkin.

"Yeah?" I confirm breathily, unable to withstand the power of his heated gaze up close.

"Mhmm," he hums, hands sliding up the back of my arms. "Bella," he drawls slowly, curling his fingers around my shoulders and gently tugging me forward. My feet clumsily stumble over themselves, and my chest smooshes against his as all the air escapes my lungs in a deep exhale. "I think we should have sex," his voice is lower, gravely, as he peers down at me from under those heavy lids.

Fuck.

My lips part, dragging air into lungs that suddenly feel too small to sustain me. "I agree," I gasp out, tonguing my dry lips in an effort to moisten them just before I'm lifted off my feet and deposited on the island.

I don't have time to form a coherent thought or reaction before Edward's mouth is descending on mine. His kiss starts out soft and gentle, then builds into more. Much, much more. Tender pecks make way for open mouths and the slick slide of his tongue against mine. His hands are everywhere. In my hair, cupping my neck and shoulders, up the back of my shirt, crushing my breasts. I'm the same; my hands have a mind of their own as they slide up his chest, around his back, and grab two firm handfuls of glorious man ass.

"Shit," he groans into my mouth, rocking his hips forward into the cradle of my thighs. I'm a quivering, panting mess when his lips finally suction off mine and drop to my neck, peppering the skin there with wet kisses.

"Please," I gasp, drawing his shirt up his body impatiently. He is quick to oblige and tugs it over his head before reaching down to unbutton his pants. They fall to the floor, forming a puddle of denim around his feet and leaving him stark-ass naked between my knees. "Holy..." I groan, trailing my fingers down his sides and sliding my thumbs into the v-formation over his hips that make up his Adonis belt.

So fucking yummy.

"Someone's a little overdressed," Edward mumbles lowly into my neck.

I couldn't agree more.

Chest heaving, I quickly wriggle out of my shirt and bra before lifting my hips to assist in his quest to remove my jeans and panties at once. They get caught around my ankles, but he pays them no mind as he reaches down to pull a condom from his discarded jeans. Acting quickly, I kick my legs free from my pants before he straightens and slides himself against me.

"Lay back," he commands, sheathing himself quickly. I'm quick to comply, shuddering as the coolness of the marble meets the fevered skin of my back.

"Look at you," his bottom lip disappears into his mouth as he palms his hardness indulgently while staring intently at the wet spot between my legs. My mouth falls open, and nipples tighten at the sight of him stroking himself to the image of me spread before him. "What should I do with you?"

"God, Edward," I gasp, trailing my hand up his firm thigh. "Stop teasing and fuck me already."

"Okay," he smirks, "you asked for it."

My skin makes a squelching sound as I'm roughly hauled toward the edge of the counter. Rough hands press my knees to my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs before Edward's hips snap forward to bury his hardness inside me.

"Oh," I squeak, eyes popping open wide as he fucks me at a punishing pace, hitting a toe-curling spot inside me with each thrust.

Edward hums in response, brow crinkled in concentration as he holds me down firmly and practically plows into me. Overwhelmed by the sensation, my hands grasp at the smooth countertop in hopes of finding something to keep me grounded. My fingers find purchase on the lip of the island just as Edward pulls himself from me and drops to his knees between my spread legs.

"Wider," he demands, tapping the inside of my thigh impatiently. My legs tremble as they fall open, exposing my tingling nether region to Edward's probing gaze and the cold air of the kitchen. He lets me dangle uselessly for a moment, heart thrumming in anticipation, before he surges forward and slides his tongue over my most sensitive skin.

"Shit," I groan, gripping his hair in my fist and pressing his head forward all while lifting my hips in time with the lapping of his tongue. A rumble of satisfaction pours from his throat as he pushes more firmly against me and slides his hands up my body to capture my nipples in the hard pinch of his fingers. "Don't stop," I gasp, feeling the stirring begin in my lower belly as his tongue swirls and mouth sucks at my flesh insistently.

Then it happens.

And I'm panting, my feet are cramping, and I can't shove his head away from me fast enough.

"Mmm," he hums, emerging from between my legs sporting a self-indulgent smirk. "Did that feel good?" He asks cockily, solely for the sake of being smug.

"It was all right," I shrug, hiding my smile behind my palm. I know he knows that I know that was the best damn orgasm I've had in my life. My liquid limbs, glassy eyes, and goofy smile speak volumes. But his smugness makes messing with him hard to resist.

"All right?" He echoes, grinning as he feigns hurt. "Does this pretty little clit need more..." He trails off, dipping his head to lap his tongue against me again.

"Shit!" I cry out, legs jerking wildly from the overstimulation. "Okay," I pant, tugging his face to mine. "It was fucking incredible, Edward."

"I thought so," he murmurs, serious now as he ducks down to trail his lips over the pebbled skin on my neck. At the same time, his thumb presses firmly against the sensitive spot he just licked, making me cry out and clamp my legs around his hand in an effort to restrict his movement. "No," he insists, prying my legs open and pushing me back with a hand to the sternum. I know what he's going to say before he says it. And when he does, my thighs clench unconsciously.

"I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

 **Is it incredibly hot in here or is it just me? XD**

 **See you all next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	32. Dad Jokes

**Happy hump day, humpers! You have no idea how many times I've just had to revise that opening line. My computer autocorrected "humpers" three times! (Jumpers, bumpers, hampers) Why won't it let me live my life?**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

Sprawled on my back, I throw a boneless arm over my eyes and sigh.

Not a bad sigh.

A contented sigh.

The amount of physical chemistry Edward and I have is insane. Every moment I'm in his presence, I'm filled with perpetual tingles. And, of course, that translates into _in-fucking-credible_ sex. Like, call your mom after, it's so damn good.

Not that I would do that, because that shit is weird and awkward.

I'm still not really in the position to be making a decision about what I want from this, but I'm certainly having fun playing with him. I choose to shut down the part of me that is tempted to overthink, and instead, enjoy the time we're sharing.

"Your bathroom is way cleaner than mine," Edward states, emerging from my ensuite naked as the day he was born. Not that I'm complaining. In fact, I think I would prefer it if he remains unclothed for the duration of his visit.

"That's the understatement of the century," I chuckle, wincing at the memory of his wet bathroom rug squelching nastily underfoot. That had to be the grossest thing my feet have ever experienced. "Have you ever cleaned it?"

"It's been a while," he shrugs, throwing himself down on the bed. "I don't really like cleaning."

"You should hire a cleaning service," I suggest, turning onto my side to face him.

"Maybe," he mumbles, eyes following the swirl of the ceiling fan as his fingers play absentmindedly with the cowlick that curls up the front of his hair.

We fall into a momentary lull, with me studying his profile and him the ceiling. He is so, so handsome, and I would like nothing more than to curl up against his side, but I'm erring on the side of caution as we have yet to establish any boundaries.

Speaking of boundaries.

"Are you spending the night?" I can't help but ask.

At the sound of my voice, Edward turns his head to look at me. I find it's much easier to concentrate around him with the intensity in his eyes turned down.

"I don't know," Edward replies, brow furrowed as he mulls this over. "Do you want me to?" His eyes unapologetically trail over my fully nude body as he says this, lingering on my chest before snapping back up to my eyes.

"Well, it's the weekend," I reason, "and I don't work tomorrow."

Why do I have to make things harder on myself by not answering directly? Hopefully, Edward is able to make an inference and interpret my answer.

"I do," he volleys back, again turning his face to stare at the ceiling. There's a beat of uncomfortable silence that stretches between us. Enough to where that panicky part of my brain is able to break through my carefully constructed mental block and wreak havoc.

I am certainly capable of making an inference, and that definitely was a 'no.' I just wish he wouldn't send me such mixed signals; checking me out so blatantly before rejecting me makes zero sense.

"But I think I'll stay anyway," his voice cuts through my inner diatribe, shutting it right up. Relieved, I let out a slow breath and smile.

"Okay," then, remembering my manners, I add. "It won't ... interfere with work or anything, will it?"

"No," he assures me, propping himself against the headboard. "No, it's all good."

"Good," I bite my lip, giddy that I'm getting way more time with him than I expected. However, I'm hesitant to show how excited I am in fear of scaring him away. I might not have much relationship experience, but I know enough to recognize that sleepovers aren't exactly on the menu when you're casually _hooking up_. Therefore, I celebrate on the inside and project calm, cool, aloofness on the outside. Now, to make sure this extra time with him is productive ...

"So, what is it that you do that has you working weekends?"

"Construction," is Edward's automatic response.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his generic response. That's exactly what he told me the last time I asked him about his job.

"Edward," I chuckle, taking the teasing route, which seems to be a fruitful approach when it comes to interacting with him. "That is as vague as vague can get. That's like saying you're in business. It's an industry, not a job."

He stares back at me and snorts before palming his messy hair and sighing. "All right, nosey, fine. I'll be more specific. My ex-brother-in-law owns his own construction company. I work for him as a foreman of sorts."

Immediately, my perverted-ass mind conjures the image of him in a toolbelt and nothing else. The thought has me swallowing and skirting my eyes down his body, enjoying the toolbelt-less nudity that, in reality, is spread out in front of me.

"Disappointed?" he probes, misinterpreting my drawn-out silence.

"No," I answer quickly, tearing my eyes away from his relaxed abdominal muscles, slim hips, and the dusting of dark hair that starts just under his belly button. "I'm sorry, it's just ... the mental image I got was pretty hot. And then I kind of got distracted by..." I trail off, gesturing to his naked body reclining casually on my bed.

"Hmm," he hums, eyes glittering playfully. "Thinking about my hammer got you hot?" My burst of laughter only encourages him to continue. "Did you want me to show you my flashlight?" I snort, rolling my eyes at his goofiness. "Should I introduce you to my drill?"

"I think you already have."

"Mm, yeah, maybe," he grins, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and tugging me against him. My pulse flutters in my throat as I settle my head onto his chest, splaying my open palm over his stomach.

I don't want to start overthinking things and getting myself all worked up, but cuddling is definitely not something you do with a casual hook up. First, it's the sleepover, now it's cuddling. Again ... his actions seem to contradict what he explicitly told me he wanted out of this. Yet, it feels so good, so natural that I don't want to put a damper on our time together by questioning it.

"What do you wear to work? I might be disillusioned by Magic Mike, but I feel like construction uniforms are pretty hot." His answering chuckle tickles my ear as it rumbles through his chest.

"Well, I'm not a stripper, so my clothing choices are a bit tamer. I usually wear jeans, work boots, and a polo." He laughs at my answering frown. "Sorry to disappoint," he rubs his hand down my bare back in an effort to soothe me before continuing. "My shit's definitely not as hot as what you're rocking every day to school. You've got that whole 'innocent librarian' vibe down pat. Little do they know, you're a fucking wildcat in the sack that likes a finger up her ass."

My body flushes at his mention of the whole "finger in the ass" thing. Never before have I even _considered_ letting someone get _anywhere_ near my ass, but, unsurprisingly, Edward was able to weasel me into it. I honestly wanted to hate it, but ... I most definitely liked it.

 **-earlier that day-**

" _What are you doing?" I gasped as I twisted my body away from Edward in response to the feeling of a foreign, probing press of a finger at my back entrance. After eating me out on the kitchen island, Edward had all but carried me into my bedroom where he had me kneeling, gripping the headboard for dear life as he pumped into me from behind._

 _His hands had been holding my hips tightly as he surged against me, and all it took was a change of grip for him to be sliding a single digit over my hole._

" _Shhh, relax, it's okay." Edward captured my fluttering hands in his own, rubbed his thumbs over the back of them soothingly before he guided them back to the headboard. "I only want to make you feel good," his mouth was hot against my neck as he slowed his pace, hands sliding up my arms to cup my breasts. He twirled his fingers over my nipples until they pebbled, sending a pulse of heat down my body, before he slid his hands down my stomach. The fingers of one hand crawled lower, toying with the sensitive skin between my legs, and the other skirted around my side and pressed down hard on the middle of my back. The pressure made me fall forward into the headboard, increasing the angle and pushing my ass out more._

" _I won't hurt you," he murmured against the nape of my neck, breath hot on my skin as he practically wrapped himself around me. "I promise."_

 _Swallowing, I mumbled a meek, "okay," into the headboard before I closed my eyes tight. With his fingers still toying with my clit and his dick steadily pumping in and out of me, I was utterly overwhelmed_ _by sensations as_ _he slowly circled my back entrance before breeching me with his pinky. The feeling was sharp and raw, filling me with confusion as my legs quivered and my clit throbbed in response._

" _You're so fucking wet," Edward groaned, increasing his pace as he pressed his finger deeper inside me. "You want more?" I could only moan as he curled the finger he had buried in my ass. "You want my thumb?" I pressed my ass back against him and gasped in response. "Fuck, such a dirty girl," he moaned, stretching me and sending a sharp jolt of painful pleasure through my body. "I can't wait to fuck you here."_

 _My body flushed at his admission, and I couldn't help but press back against him, moaning a drawn-out "yes."_

 **-present time-**

My reaction to the memory is visceral and, automatically, my legs rub together in response. Snickering, Edward runs his palm down my side and cups my ass, fingers sliding into my crack cheekily.

"Hey," I swat his hand away, breathing shallowly. "That is privileged information. You will take that to your grave."

"Whatever you say," he chuckles, a smile evident in his voice. "You have a very comfortable bed," he comments after a moment of silence. "Is this memory foam?"

"Yeah," I laugh, grateful for the change of subject. "It is."

"I think I could fall asleep like this." Edward muses, drawing me closer to him.

"Hmm, not likely," I retort, adjusting my position on his chest. "Your arm under my neck is giving me a headache."

"Not a cuddler?" He asks hand splayed on my lower back, holding me against him. As if I'd try to escape, headache, be damned.

"Depends on the position," I reply after mulling it over.

"Hmm," Edward hums thoughtfully. "Are you as adventurous with your spooning positions as you are with your forking?"

I can't help but snort and swat at his chest playfully at that one. "You are literally such a dad," I chuckle, shaking my head in disdain.

"What?" He chimes in mock annoyance. "Was I too lame?"

"Way too fucking lame." I snort.

"I tried," he shrugs, before adding in a melodic, sing-song voice, "too bad!"

I am momentarily stunned into silence. Albeit playful, his voice was indescribably good. Like why-aren't-you-singing-professionally good. "Fuck," I mouth, in awe of him. "Do you do that a lot?"

"Make dad jokes?" Edward replies, brow furrowed in confusion. "I guess I do, sometimes? Why? Does it turn you off?"

"No – your dorkiness is absolutely adorable, but I wasn't talking about that." I clarify, sitting up to get a better look at him as I ask this. "Do you make a habit of breaking out into spontaneous song? This is the first time I've heard you do anything close to singing and it, like, used to be your livelihood."

"Oh," Edward deadpans, reaching up to palm his hair. "Why? Was it bad?"

"Fuck no," my reply is instantaneous. "Your voice is angelic, Edward. I think I'm wet."

"You _think_ you are?" He teases, wrapping his arm around my hips and dragging me closer. "C'mere, let me check." His hand slides between my legs, fingers gliding through the wetness he finds there. "Yup," he mutters, lip trapped between his teeth as he slips his index and middle fingers inside me. "Fucking drenched. I should do that more often, huh?"

I try not to dwell on his mention of 'next time' and 'can't wait' and 'more often,' lest I get my hopes up that this might be more than what it really is. I'm busy talking myself down when he pulls his fingers out, making my body cry from the loss of stimulation.

"Wait," I gasp, stopping his fingers' retreat with a hand to his wrist. "Don't stop."

"You want more?" He teases, lazily dragging his wet fingers up my thigh.

"Yes," I hiss.

You have no idea.

* * *

 **Anyone else looking forward to Edward's "next time"? Whew is he a dirty boy! I think I might be in love - save for the clear commitment issues ... but that's hot, amirite? I wish I was kidding, but this Edward's perspective on relationships is actually based on my fiancé's attitude when we first started dating. Fun facts!**

 **More next week (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	33. Good Talk

**Hi everyone (: Been busy, busy, busy but I finally found the time to stop, breathe, and post. Hope you all like how everything is panning out so far!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

My hand scrambles uselessly across empty sheets as I sit up sharply in bed.

The spot Edward occupied last night is vacant. And, if the coolness of the sheet is any indication, he's been gone for quite some time. I don't even bother looking around the room for his discarded clothes. The pit that forms in my stomach tells me everything I need to know.

Edward left without saying goodbye.

My body sags against the headboard with the weight of that realization. I don't have much, well, _any_ experience in the casual sex department, so I'm not sure how this is supposed to go down. But, leaving without a word seems cold as fuck.

I guess last night didn't go as well as I thought it did.

Our second romp between the sheets had been just as frenzied and passionate as the first, and once we both climaxed, the conversation that came after was completely natural and lasted long into the night. My eyes slide shut at the memory of it, filling my mind with images of his naked, tattooed torso. Tattoos I am now very familiar with. My mind traces over them adoringly.

A Celtic knot is splayed across his throat for his Irish heritage.

Heavily-stylized, and in black and white, a delicate rose rests over his heart for his daughter. Thin, spidery briars surround it and extend onto his shoulder and down the outside of his left arm. The sharp, dark wisps are occasionally broken up by a bright, pink rosebud – the gentle and loving protection he puts around the most important person in his life.

Lyrics of the first song he ever wrote are immortalized on the inside of his left bicep.

A blue, brush-stroked, yin and yang adorns his left forearm, symbolizing his need for balance in life.

The knuckles of his left hand are decorated in curling script, with 'stay' on the upper knuckles and 'true' on the lower.

Bright orange koi fish twist together over their blue watercolor, right pectoral backdrop.

His right arm from shoulder to fingertips is a work of anatomically correct art. The bands of his straining muscles are illustrated fully across his skin, depicting his utter humanity in startling black and white.

A humongous, Japanese-style dragon spans the expanse of his back from shoulder to ass crack.

His entire right leg is covered from hip to ankle in a hypnotic, swirling, black and gray design; while his left is splashed with dizzying, colorful designs that seem to make no sense. A scene from SpongeBob is the sole design that stands out on the back of his left calf – another for his daughter, illustrating their shared love of cartoons.

Only the taut skin of his stomach remains unembellished, save for a small freckle to the right of his belly button ... one that glitters tantalizingly in my mind. I'd kissed it several times last night during my exploration of his expansive collection of skin art. I wish I could kiss it again right now.

I can't help but frown longingly as I drag my sorry self from bed. The oversized shirt I throw over my head leaves my still-frenzied skin tingling with distaste. My liquid limbs carry me drowsily into the kitchen, where they come to an abrupt halt at the sight that greets me.

It's Edward.

In my kitchen.

Cooking.

My mouth waters, and it's not because of the delicious smells that waft about the room.

"Good morning," he greets me without turning around, his shoulders tensing and releasing as he stirs briskly.

"You're cooking breakfast?" I suddenly find my voice, advancing further into the kitchen automatically as if hypnotized by the provocative sight in front of me and the smells surrounding me. "How domestic."

I certainly did not expect that. Here I was wallowing over him leaving without a word; meanwhile, he's in here innocently cooking up a storm.

"I hope you like eggs and toast," he replies flippantly, "because it's all I could find in your fridge."

Shame colors my cheeks and I'm suddenly very glad he's facing away from me so he can't see my face. Money has been tight lately – curse you, student loans – and ... well, the teaching profession isn't renowned for its salary.

"Have any fun plans for today?" I ask, steering the conversation away from my lack of proper groceries. "Other than work," I tack on, remembering his comment last night about having to work today.

"Rose has a soccer game in an hour," Edward murmurs, plating the fluffy, scrambled eggs he ladles out of the skillet. "After that, I need to stop by a worksite to check up on some things."

"So," I drawl, accepting his proffered plate of eggs and thoroughly buttered toast. "You really _are_ her father."

"Yes," he sighs exasperatedly, staring at me blankly.

"I'm sorry, but it's just hard for me to believe when all you've done is lie to me about the subject or act like it's not real or something." His face hardly changes as the words tumble from my mouth. Only his lips twitch downward, revealing his desire to frown. "You're so closed off – I'm here joking with you, but I feel like I don't even know you."

For a moment, his lids flutter minutely as he stares at me blankly before he turns back to cooking his serving of eggs. With his back to me, I watch as his ribs expand and contract with a sigh. And then he starts to speak.

"I met Irina a year before the band broke up," my lips part in confusion as he speaks unhurriedly, but I think better of questioning him. I mean, he's actually talking about something _real_ for once. I'm so greedy for any little morsel I can learn about him that my mouth snaps shut at the chance for more. "She had just signed on to a modeling agency in New York – only eighteen and fresh from Ukraine. She was brought in to work on one of the band's music videos. She ended up getting mixed up with someone on set who wasn't the best of influences. I ... I had to intervene a few months later."

"Wow," I mouth, unsure of how to take all this new information. "You stole her from someone?"

"It wasn't like that," Edward shakes his head slowly. "Well, not initially. She was really ... going through some shit and needed a place to stay. A place that was ... safe."

His admission and clear redaction of the truth raised a number of mental red flags. What the fuck was she mixed up in? Who the hell did she need saving from? Is this real life? Because it feels like I'm on the set of a dramatic telenovela.

"We were just friends for a while." Edward pauses, scooping his eggs onto a plate.

"And then it turned to more?" I probe.

"Yeah, eventually it did." He pulls his fork through his eggs thoughtfully. "I ... uh ... it wasn't my intention."

"Why get married, then?" Now that he's opened up, even slightly, I can't resist. I want to know more. I _need_ to know more.

"She got pregnant with Rose," he shrugs. "It just felt like the right thing to do."

"Oh," I mouth. Now that he's admitted it, it feels as if that should have been obvious. "Why the divorce? I clearly don't know her too well but the limited interactions I've had with her have been pleasant."

The words taste of acid as they flow from my lips. I know I have no reason to be jealous, considering our situation, but her permanence in Edward's life stings. I know, no matter how many pleasant interactions he and I might have, I will never hold as much space in his life as she does. It's intimidating and discouraging.

Yet, I have no choice to accept and make peace with it. The mother of his child _should_ hold a special spot in his heart, even if they aren't together anymore.

"She's..." Edward pauses. "She's, um, great." He shrugs, shoveling eggs into his mouth and chewing noisily. "We just ... weren't good together. We only got married because of Rose, and I knew, even then, it wasn't going to last." He taps his fork against his plate as he continues thoughtfully. "I don't even think she likes me that much..."

"What do you mean?" I latch on to his flippant comment.

"I..." he laughs, combing his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. "It's just a feeling."

"Well, um, was it just her? Or have you always had something against long-term commitment?"

"It would seem like the latter, yeah?" Edward quips humorlessly.

"All signs point to yes." I nod soberly.

"I haven't always been ... this way. In the past, I wanted nothing more than to find someone to share my life with ... make a family with." He stares morosely at the empty plate in front of him as he says this, then lifts his eyes to mine as he continues. "I just haven't had the best of luck relationship-wise. Women seem to just ... make everything so complicated. That's why I like to keep everything casual."

"I see." I make a mental note to revisit this.

"And you?" He prompts, seeming genuinely interested in my romantic history. His brows lift questioningly as he maintains steady, probing, eye contact.

I am temporarily silenced by the mesmerizing power of those eyes.

Shaking myself free of his hold, I take a moment to debate the merits of coming clean on this subject. What would he think of me if I told him I usually screw things up by the second date? My awkwardness is typically an obstacle that I find truly insurmountable. If my unfiltered mouth doesn't scare potential suitors away, my tendency to overthink does.

Edward has witnessed this firsthand. Still, here he remains.

Why not tell him the truth? He hasn't been scared away yet. Plus, it's not like we're in a _real_ relationship or anything. There's no pressure to hide who I really am to keep him coming back. He's all but seen the worst of me already.

"As far as relationships go..." I trail off, "I think I might be a little too quirky. I typically don't get past the second date. And, if I do, I usually say or do something that scares men away soon after."

"Sounds like you've been dating a bunch of losers if you ask me," Edward remarks, lips pulled down in a frown.

"Um, thanks?" I reply, unsure of what he means by that.

"That wasn't mean to insult you," Edward rushes out. "It was more of a compliment." His hand finds mine as he continues. "Those guys are fucking idiots if they're thrown off by a little quirkiness." My stomach plummets as his thumb strokes slowly over my knuckles. "Quirk adds character; it makes things interesting, less boring."

I can't help but smile and squeeze his fingers in response.

"Thank you," my cheeks burn as my smile stretches.

"You're welcome," he releases my fingers after stroking them one last time. "Now, are you going to finish those eggs?"

And, just like that, all tenderness vanishes from his face. It's replaced by playful boyishness as he reaches across my body for my plate. He doesn't even bother to wait for my response before scooping up the remnants of my eggs with his fork. They're lifted quickly from my plate and guided into his smiling mouth, where they're chewed briefly and ingested after his neck constricts in a hard swallow.

"I'm gonna head out now," he murmurs, dumping our plates into the sink with a clatter. "Got a soccer game to catch." And then he ducks into my room and emerges with his keys dangling from his finger and smiles. "Thanks for having me over. I had a good time."

He skirts around my tense body as he makes his swift exit, nuzzling the top of my head briefly before landing a stinging smack to my ass in parting.

"See you around," he throws over his shoulder.

It's only after my front door clicks shut that I realize I'm still standing there, gaping at the swiftness of his personality shift and seeing stars from his slap.

I think I'm in trouble.

* * *

 **E can steal my eggs and slap my ass anytime he wants, amirite?**

 **Let me know what you think! Is B in trouble? What do you think about E's behavior? His description of Irina? Is B going to overthink all of this and blow it up? Any theories?**

 **See you all next week (:**

 **xo**

 **j**


	34. Tween Money

**Hi all - I hope everyone is enjoying the start of their week. I have today off, so that means vegging out on the couch, naturally. Let me know what you guys think of today's chapter (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

Mondays should be against the law. Especially after experiencing a weekend as spectacular as the one I just had.

Now I'm back to the harsh reality of work.

Fuck. Today's going to drag.

"How was your weekend?" Alice chirps, clearly not along for a ride on the apathy train I'm currently on. She's chipper as hell as she prepares learning centers for today's class.

Her doing it means I don't have to, which instantly makes me brighten.

"You could say it was ... ravishing," I grin, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh?" Alice, deeply interested now, puts a halt to her prepping. "You were ravished? Do tell, as I've only just convinced my suitor to kiss me."

"About time," I raise my hand for a high-five, which Alice eagerly meets. "Was it good?"

"So good," Alice sighs dreamily, eyelids fluttering as she no doubt relives said kiss. "His lips are like pillows. I can't wait to feel them all over my body."

"Sure," I smirk, "but you'll have to wait until next year."

"Fuck you," Alice sobers.

"Sorry, Alice," I backtrack, "I kid."

"You certainly do, asshole." She punctuates her statement with a dramatic eye roll.

"Sorry – again – I can't help myself." Instead of leaving it at that, I decide to address something that has been bothering me about her situation. "Why is he being like this, though? Is he super religious or something?"

"Actually, no," Alice frowns. "He's a reformed man-whore."

"What?" I breathe incredulously. "Explain. Now."

"You know the cliché rock star profile? Hot guy who fucks anything with a pulse?" When I nod in affirmation, Alice continues. "That was Jasper up until a few years ago."

"What happened to make him change his ways?"

 _How likely is it that not one, but two members of Forks Four have secret kids? Somebody owes me some money if my conspiracy theory pans out._

"VD," Alice purses her lips.

Venereal disease.

"No, shit!" I exclaim in amused alarm.

"It's all cleared up now, thank God." Alice lifts her hands in a show of relief. "But it definitely shocked him – that's for sure. Catching VD made him rethink his behavior. He realized how dangerous sleeping with a different chick every night was. Now, he's determined to do better by himself and his future partners."

"Wow, Alice," my voice comes out in an awed whisper. "That's pretty ... commendable. Guy's just earned my respect."

"Fuck," Alice groans, resigned to the fact that she's stuck in a slow-moving relationship. "I know. He's fucking amazing, isn't he?"

"Seems like it," I can't help but smirk knowing that what I'm about to say will piss her off. "Let me know if you need me to replenish your battery stock in the meantime."

Alice scowls. "How is it you go from understanding to asshole in mere seconds?"

"It's all part of my charm."

"Well, I wish you'd turn that charm on to someone else," Alice quips.

"Why would I?" I ask, fighting off giggles. "When charming you is so much fun?"

"Ugh, fucking bite me." Alice groans, turning back to the learning center and effectively dismissing me.

"Oh, boy," I goad her teasingly. "What would the parents think if they heard sweet Alice cursing up a storm in the same room their adorable babies develop their precious little brains?"

"Yeah? Well, what would Ms. Irina think if she knew her dear daughter's wholesome teacher spent the weekend getting railed by her ex-husband and father of said child?" Alice's smile screams of victory.

"Touché," I nod, humbled by her clever comeback. "I'm a terrible person."

"Maybe," Alice shrugs, slapping her hands against her thighs after straightening the last stack of papers on the learning center table. "But there's no going back, right?"

"Zero chance," I reply instantly. "His dick is fucking magic ... and he's an incredible person."

"Watch yourself," Alice warns, eyes flashing knowingly.

I try to heed her warning as my weekend passes much the same as the last. Sweat-soaked, Edward and I lay sprawled across my bed spent and so, so satisfied. I flex my toes in the tousled sheets, trying to work the feeling back into my tingling legs, which went numb after being pressed to my chest and wrapped around Edward's much wider frame for such a long period of time.

"What are you thinking about?" Edward asks, voice soft as he turns toward me to brush a clump of damp hair away from my face.

"Nothing, really," I smile, completely content. "Just thinking about you."

"Oh? What about me?" Edward grins, always happy to discuss his second favorite topic – himself. Well, unless I press too hard on something touchy, then his smile vanishes, and he shuts down.

"I don't know," I sigh, rolling to face him. His green eyes are soft, almost adoring, as he stares down at me. His arms curl around me comfortingly as I press my face into his colorful chest. Breathing him in, I broach a safe subject. "How did you get into music?

I already know the answer. Anyone who was alive in the early 2000s knows. The band did countless interviews on the topic. But, there's something about getting the real, raw answer straight from the source. I can't resist.

Edward peers down at me thoughtfully before letting out a slow breath and turning onto his back. This is the position he assumes every time we talk. At first, I would get upset that he didn't want to look at me, but then it dawned on me that this must be his way of comforting himself when he does something that makes him uncomfortable — in this case, opening up.

His voice is soft and sleepy as he answers, "My dad."

And ... there he goes. Fingers in the cowlick at the front of his hair. Eyes following the constant swirl of the ceiling fan. Bottom lip pinched between a perfect set of white teeth.

He's adorably predictable.

"Was he a musician, too?"

"A wannabe musician," he chuckles softly. "He was an accountant first and foremost."

"And your mom?" I probe.

"First grade teacher," he supplies.

Such a wholesome background. I wonder if his mom made him cookies after school. Mine sure didn't, but she would have wanted to if she could stay awake long enough after working back-to-back shifts at the diner. My neighbor sometimes gave me a few of her digestive cookies as payment for walking her pipsqueak of a dog, but those were absolute shit.

"You grew up in Washington, right?'

"Mhmm," Edward confirms, chin dropping as his hand abandons his hair to tuck itself into the waistband of his briefs in a move that is so very dude of him.

"That's where you met Emmett, Jasper, and James?"

"Yeah," The fingers of his arm trapped underneath me gently drift up the back of my thigh as he speaks slowly and deliberately. "Emmett was my neighbor. Jasper's mom is my mom's high school best friend – more like family than anything. And, um, James is Jasper's cousin."

"How'd you guys get together?"

This is another question I know the answer to. I remember reading a feature on the band in _Seventeen_ magazine that profiled their rise to fame. But, I want the uncoached, unfiltered version of the story. So, I press on.

"It just sort of happened..." Edward shrugs. "Emmett, Jasper, and I used to fuck around a shit ton with the drum set, guitar, and bass my dad kept in the garage. We never really thought about singing until Jasper started bringing James around."

"You didn't start out singing?"

"Hell, no," Edward laughs. "I was all about the drums. We were a rock band when were discovered, you know?"

I did know that. Thanks, _Seventeen_.

"What happened to make you guys change?" This is definitely not something _Seventeen_ covered in their profile.

"Record label," his lips stretch tight as he lifts his hand to palm his hair. "They thought a proper, pop boy band was more marketable, especially with youth on our side."

"Did you have to get vocal lessons?"

Edward lets out a derisive snort and rolls his eyes. "Of course! Although they didn't have to work me over as hard as they did Emmett. Kid couldn't hold a tune to save his fucking life."

"If James was the singer from the start, why didn't they make him lead?" I can't help this line of questioning. After hearing Edward's version of the events that lead to Forks Four becoming a household name, it doesn't make any sense that the label would choose to have Edward lead when James was clearly more comfortable with the role.

Edward's eyes tighten minutely as he watches the fan's blades whirl above him. "That was the label again," his voice is imperceptibly thicker and a tad hesitant as he continues. "They thought I was more wholesome. If only they could see me now."

Now that he's said that, I can definitely see what he means. James was always a little more rough around the edges in comparison to the other guys in the band. He was the quintessential bad boy, and it simultaneously drove girls and their parents wild – for different reasons, obviously.

"Is that why you went all out with the tattoos? Because you wanted to shuck off some of that wholesomeness?"

Edward turns to face me as this question leaves my lips. He stares at me thoughtfully, albeit with humor in his eyes. "Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?" He asks mirthfully after a beat of prolonged eye contact.

"No."

My shifty eyes give away the lie.

"Right," Edward smirks, plopping onto his back once more. "You're wrong, though. The tattooed rebel has always been inside me. I just kept it at bay until my paycheck was no longer tied to the wallets of the judgmental parents of my tween fans'."

"Smart," I dip my chin, "but I doubt they would have cared."

"Maybe," he pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully before continuing. "I didn't bottle it _all_ up, though. You can see some of it come out in the lyrics I wrote. Boredom and restlessness lead to ... interesting word choice. I still can't believe we got away with some of those songs."

"Interesting? Now _that's_ an _interesting_ word choice. I'd say provocative is more like it."

Edward chuckles at my sarcastic tease.

"Hmm, yeah. So, you remember the ones I'm talking about." His smile is self-satisfied and lazy as he languidly stretches his limbs on my bed.

Ones – plural – I don't remember. It's just _the one_ that left its mark on me. I'm tempted to fess up, to tell him how he twisted me up in knots so very long ago. But the uncertainty of his potential response gives me pause.

Should I do it?

I mean, he hasn't run screaming for the hills yet. So ... what's the harm in telling him now?

I'm going to do it.

"How could I forget?" I stutter out breathlessly, feeling the nerves creep in. "You sang one of them directly to me at one of your concerts."

"No, shit?" Edward's cheeks pinken as he turns to me with interest. "What did I do?"

"Jumped off stage," I gulp, watching it play out in my mind – for what must be the millionth time – as I describe that night's events to him. "Held my hand and touched my face while you belted out the most intensely provocative part of "Bad Boy." You almost fucking killed me."

"No way! Really? How old were you?" His lips part in alarm, yet the almost-permanent mischievous glint remains in his eyes.

My answer comes out a rushed mumble.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Edward's full-on grinning now, basking in my discomfort. Age isn't really a problem for us now, but it certainly would have been back then.

"I said, I was thirteen."

"Fuck," Edward laughs, half embarrassed and half entertained. "I knew I should have asked for an age limit on the front row."

"And lose the tween money that was padding your pockets? I think not."

Edward chuckles at that before sobering. His bottom lip creases and pales as his teeth press into it. "God, looking back, you must think I'm a total creep."

Smiling now, I curl into his side and sigh. "Nah, now that I know you, I don't think you're a creep ... I _know_ you are."

"You little!" Edward cries, letting out a feral growl before pinning me to the bed. Gasping under his weight and through my giggles, I attempt to twist away from him, but to no avail. He's everywhere, and I can't escape the maddening wiggle of his tickling fingers.

Then again, do I really _want_ to escape?

* * *

 **Hmm, we get some explanation regarding Jasper's chaste behavior. What do you guys think? Are we team Jasper? Also, who else wants E to revisit the drums? Maybe get spanked with one of the sticks? LOL**

 **Can't wait to hear what you guys think!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	35. Ouch

**Hiii - happy hump day! I hope you guys are having a good week so far (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I can tell something is off with Alice the moment she walks into the classroom.

"All right, what is it?" I immediately prompt her, watching as she drops her bag to the floor behind her desk with a sigh.

"Really? You can tell that quickly something is bothering me?" Alice chuckles humorlessly. "Am I that transparent?"

"Yes," I supply soberly. "You are that transparent."

"Great," she grumbles grumpily. "Here I thought I was going to do a good job keeping this from you."

"Keeping what from me?" I probe, now fully invested in learning what she knows. The look on her face should warn me away, and, if I had any self-control, I would stifle my urge to know more. But I don't, so I can't help myself.

"Okay, at the risk of pissing you off, I'll tell you." Breathing deeply, she steels herself before continuing. "Jasper asked Edward if he could meet you again, like, sober, you know. Since we were both blackout drunk the first time around."

"Oh, really?" I breathe, understanding dawning on me. No wonder Alice wanted to keep this from me. It's going to fucking _hurt_.

"Yeah," Alice's cheeks flush as she nods in affirmation.

"What did Edward say?" I ask, despite knowing full-well what his answer was.

"Well, Jasper implied it would be a double date scenario," Alice adds, face grim. "So you can only imagine what Edward's answer was."

"Oh." I sure can.

"Yup," Alice swallows.

"Fuck."

"You can say that again," Alice nods. "Edward was not about it at all."

"I could have told you that," I sigh, warring against the painful clench in my chest and the utter resignation in my mind.

"In Jasper's defense, Edward _does_ spend every weekend at your place." I nod in assent, gnawing my bottom lip as she attempts to explain Jasper's motivation and logic. "He figured since he's so invested in spending time with you – and only you – that Edward would be game."

Don't think my hopeful little heart missed that "only you" caveat. It literally beats from my chest, swelling with want and hope, and all things I shouldn't be feeling, but am, regardless.

"I told you it was casual," I remind Alice, ignoring the hectic thrumming behind my ribs.

"You're okay with it still, right?" Alice's face is marred with worry, and it gives me pause. I don't know who needs comforting more – her or me. Being a good friend is clearly weighing on her. Yet, simultaneously stroking and ignoring these budding feelings for Edward is killing me as well.

We're both screwed.

"Obviously," the lie twists in my gut and hisses out from between clenched teeth.

"I only ask because I worry about you." Alice's hand finds mine, fingers stroking comfortingly over the taut skin of my tense knuckles.

"And I appreciate that," I assure her, squeezing her fingers soothingly before releasing them. "But, I told you from the start. I won't wait around for him to develop feelings for me or whatever. I'm only in this for fun."

The churn in my gut makes the reassuring smile on my face feel false.

"Jasper does have a point, though," she says haughtily. "For two people who claim their arrangement is casual, you guys do spend an awful lot of time together

"Yeah, well, we just like having sex," I reply flippantly, making little of our situation. If I were being truthful, I'd add talking, flirting, making breakfast, watching TV, and cuddling to the list – amongst other little things that make hanging out together so very enjoyable.

"For some reason, I don't believe you." Alice eyes me speculatively as she says this, pensive hand stroking her chin.

"Well, I'm telling it like it is, so..." My nose grows longer and longer by the second.

"Mmkay," Alice assents disbelievingly. "Well, I'm here for you regardless."

"And, I'm here for you, too," I smirk, trying to take the attention away from me by poking at one of her hot spots. Mentioning her lack of sexual attention is a sure way to accomplish this.

" _Do not_ bring up the celibacy thing," Alice warns, eyes flashing.

"I'm not the one who brought it up this time," I argue, hands up in defense. "That was all you!"

"Yeah, well, I could see it brewing in your eyes." Alice accuses, her finger pointing at the space square between said eyes.

"No way, dude," I wave her off. "What you think is mischief is only a bad case of indigestion."

"Gross!" She cries, shoving me away. "I thought I smelled a fart earlier!"

"Oh yeah," I smirk, "I've been blowing up this place."

"You're vile," she gags.

"You love me," I grin.

"I do," Alice rolls her eyes, fanning her face wildly as she trots away.

Now, on to the hard work of coming to terms with the information Alice has gifted me. It's not news to me, but it's definitely a nice reminder of where we stand. I've allowed myself to read too far into his actions. I've been seeing feelings where clearly there are none. I need to snap out of this spell I've cast over myself and stamp out the hope I've been holding in my heart. If not, I really do need to end things between us, because, as is, this only spells out pain for me in the end.

-infatuation-

Edward's sprawled, shirtless, on my couch Friday evening when I finally work up the nerve to broach the subject with him. I figure, if I can talk about it objectively, I can get over it. In theory, of course.

"So, Alice told me Jasper asked you to arrange a double date."

Edward doesn't react to my statement. His eyes stay glued to the TV as he answers me. "Did she?"

I keep my voice even and emotionless as I answer, "Yeah, she said you refused."

"I did," Edward's just as even and emotionless as I am, thumb navigating the Netflix options as he carries on a conversation with me. "That's not our thing."

"Right," I nod, swallowing as I slump back into the couch.

Even.

Emotionless.

The tears pricking in my eyes and clogging my throat might have something to say about that.

Edward's clicking on the remote continues as he murmurs, "Are you disappointed?"

I want to throttle him for even asking. I'm trying so hard to hide the answer to that question, yet, I know, full-well, it is so very obvious.

My hands curl around my thighs in restraint as I grind out through clenched teeth, "Well, I would have liked to meet Jasper in a sober state of mind."

"Mmm," Edward hums in understanding. "Well, you don't need me there for that."

My head flies back in response as if his words were a strike in the face. Reeling, I nod in understanding. Message received loud and clear.

"Right," I repeat, mind sliding into total and complete numbness.

"Do you want to watch this one?" Edward asks, after a moment of silence,

oblivious to my inner turmoil.

"Sure," my voice sounds dead, even to my own ears. I don't see his selection; I just blindly agree.

This isn't working, a small, sober part of me admits. I need to end this now before it gets ugly.

"Really?" Edward probes. "This one?" He's turned to face me now, lips quirked in amusement.

"Yeah, whatever you want."

That's how it works between us, anyway. My opinion or feelings don't matter. Why should movie selections be any different?

"This one?" Edward repeats, louder, and more fervent this time.

It's like his words wake something inside me, and I blink, focusing on the TV in front of me. My eyes adjust in time to find Edward's pulled up a paranormal horror movie on my Netflix account.

"Fuck no," I rush out, wrestling the remote from his hands.

"That's what I thought," Edward chuckles. "Where were you just now?"

"Nowhere important," I reply flippantly. I should tell him how I feel. I should end things between us. It would be the responsible thing to do. But my head and my heart are at war with each other. And, it seems, I'm content to remain a glutton for punishment – at least, for one more night. "Do you want to start a new series?" I ask, thumbing through tiles as I push my hurt aside.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Edward presses, now turned fully to face me. I keep my eyes on the TV, lest I melt at the sight of his beautiful, imploring irises.

"Nothing's wrong, Edward." I sigh, feigning exasperation. Inside, my battered heart sings with hope at his alleged concern for my feelings. "I'm fine."

I'm not.

Edward sighs before gently tugging the remote from my hands. With it safely on the coffee table, he turns his attention back to me as he grasps me by the shoulders and rotates me to face him. "I ... I can tell something is up," Edward's eyes seek mine, plundering me with their deep, green emotion. "Don't hide from me," he implores. After a beat, it becomes too much for me, and I do what he asks me not to. I drop my eyes to my lap.

Why the fuck do you care? I want to burst. We're just casual. Me being upset shouldn't fucking matter to you as long as my legs are still open. And, well, they are. I want to bludgeon myself for that.

Yet, here he sits, occupying my couch space, despite the fact that I told him – explicitly – there would be no sex this weekend due to my period. He just continues to further confuse me with his hot and cold act.

Why is he like this?

"I'm not hiding," I whisper as I hide. The truth is written on my face. Can't he see it?

"Is it me?" He probes. "Is it something I did?"

Obviously.

"No."

"Come on, Bella." He sighs, clearly frustrated with the lack of clarity my responses have provided him. "This is the fucking shit I hate about relationships. How the hell am I supposed to know what I did wrong if you won't tell me?"

I swallow. Hurt feelings and confusing behavior aside, he has a point. I am being a little overdramatic. However, confessing to this _will_ have a catastrophic effect on our current situation, and, begrudgingly, I'm not sure if I want to face that yet.

"I ... just..." I start, searching for a lie that sounds truthful. "I had a rough day today." That's not too much of a stretch. Friday's are always tough. The kids are always riled up before weekends, and all that energy can be exhausting after a while. "I'm sorry if it's affecting my mood. I don't mean to take it out on you _." Even though you are the sole reason why I'm moody._ That and the fact that I am wholly unable to keep my feelings out of this.

"Here," Edward murmurs softly, soothingly, after a moment. He hands me the remote, pushes me to recline on the couch. "Relax. Pick something to watch – whatever you want. And let me rub your feet."

I want to chuck the remote at his confusing-ass face.

I want to scream at him for being so wishy-washy.

I want, so desperately, to release the tears that sting so painfully behind my eyes.

I don't do any of those things.

I pull in a deep, calming breath, grasp the remote, and plop my feet into Edward's waiting hands. It's not until his thumbs, large and warm, dig into my soles that a single, hot tear streaks down my cheek.

"That's it," Edward soothes, leaning forward to press his lips to the moist trail it left on the apple of my cheek. "Let it go."

My eyes close slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips on my skin.

And I just breathe.

* * *

 **Hmm ... what do you guys think? Should Bella jump ship? Or is there promise here?**

 **Also, keep in mind Bella is young and inexperienced when it comes to relationships. She hasn't really had a boyfriend, let alone a friend with benefits, so she's not well-versed in communicating her feelings. Be patient - I know she's a tad bit frustrating haha**

 **See you next time!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	36. Soul Searching

**Hiiii (: So much to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving Eve, including the endless support you all show me! I hope you guys enjoy what's to come (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

I'm drawn from my slumber by the warm waft of a steaming-hot cup of coffee under my nose.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Edward croons, lips soft on my cheek.

"Mmm, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I mumble, arms lifting in a deep stretch.

"Well," Edward drawls, handing me the cup once I'm seated upright on the bed. "You only elbowed me in the ribs once last night, so I was feeling pretty generous this morning."

"Ha ha," I laugh humorlessly before dipping my head to take a long pull from the mug. "I _do not_ elbow you in my sleep."

"You do, but that's beside the point," Edward sobers, combs his fingers through his hair, and continues. "Um, I actually woke you up this morning for a reason."

"Oh?" I prompt, immediately on edge. "Do you have to be somewhere?"

"Yeah," he answers, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Not just me, though."

My sleepy brain struggles to keep up.

"Oh? Um, I hope you have fun with whoever you're going with, then." The hurt in my voice is obvious. "What time are you headed out?"

"In an hour or so." Edward supplies, watching me fight back my emotions with a faint smile on his face. I want to smack it off, but I refrain because it's petty. "I'll tell Alice and Jasper you said hi."

"Wait –" Now, I'm sitting up straight. "You're hanging out with them?"

To add insult to injury, he throws this shit in my face. He's not willing to hang out with them while I'm there, but on his lonesome, it's fair game. I am beyond bitter.

"Yup," Edward replies, cheerily. "And so are you." His clarification has me sucking in a sharp breath. "So, get that cute butt up and showered so we can get going."

What the fuck?

I thought we weren't doing this.

"You changed your mind?" I need to know if what I'm hearing is true; and, I need to know why his opinion on the matter would change so drastically overnight.

"I might have," he shrugs, reaching up to pull the bottom lip I didn't even realize I was chewing from between my teeth.

"Why? What changed?"

"I couldn't sleep last night," Edward sighs, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I kept thinking about our conversation yesterday, about what was bothering you, and ... I did a bit of soul searching ... and now I think I understand."

My eyes drop to my lap.

"Bella," Edward murmurs, lifting my gaze to his with a tender finger under my chin. "It might not be what we've been doing, but that doesn't mean we can't do it. You just ... have to tell me what's on your mind. Otherwise, how can you expect me to know when I've done something to upset you?"

"You're right," I murmur, tearing my eyes from his as I bare a little sliver of my heart. "Your immediate refusal of Jasper's invitation hurt me. I understand that we're not ... in a committed relationship, but – to me – spending time with some friends doesn't make what we have any more serious than it has been."

"I ..." Edward starts, eyes downcast. "Yeah, I know. It wasn't right of me to answer for both of us before speaking to you first. I'm sorry, Bella. Here I am lecturing you about communication when I'm just as much at fault as you are."

"Thank you for apologizing." My hand curls around his, which is fisted at his knee. "I'm sorry, too, for being so bottled up. I'll try to be more open about what I'm thinking and feeling, but don't expect it to happen overnight."

"Of course," Edward smiles, unclenching his fist to twine his fingers with mine.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." I want so desperately to do something normal, something couple-y with him, but – at the same time – I'd rather not make him uncomfortable. It would kill me if he were miserable the whole time. So, I put my desires to the side and offer him an out. "I know we're not ... dating or anything; it might be ... weird for you to go on a double date with me."

"I'm fine," Edward flashes me a reassuring smile as his fingers tighten around mine. "I'm here every weekend for a reason..."

My heart soars.

"You have the most comfortable bed," he continues, and my smile flickers. His smirk broadens as he observes my reaction. After a pause, he chuckles and uses his grip on my hand to drag me against him. "You're not so bad, either," he adds, roughing my hair before smacking a loud, wet kiss to my neck.

"You're sleeping on the couch from now on," I stick my tongue out at him childishly as I struggle to remove myself from his tight embrace. "You just want an excuse to get away from Garrett for a couple of days."

Edward's nose wrinkles at the mention of his vile roommate. "That, too."

"Also, my bathroom is way nicer than yours," I add for good measure.

" _Way_ nicer," he agrees readily.

"I should shower," I sigh after comfortable silence stretches between us.

"You should," Edward nods in agreement. "You stink."

"So do you," I quip, pinching his side before throwing myself off the bed in an effort to escape his sure retaliation.

"I smell amazing," he calls after me. I can almost hear his self-satisfied smirk coloring his voice.

He's right.

But you won't catch me telling him that.

-infatuation-

"Where are we going?" I ask as I slide into the passenger seat of his car. It's modest, cozy, and just as dirty as his bathroom is. Cleanliness is something Edward needs to work on.

"Food and Wine Festival," Edward supplies, watching like a hawk to ensure I buckle my seatbelt correctly before he turns to back out of his parking spot. His concern for my safety warms me.

"Ooooh!" I cry, excited now. "That sounds incredible!"

"You're twenty-one, right?" Edward teases. "I forgot to ask before I okayed the event with Jasper."

"Very funny," I deadpan. Our age difference isn't obvious in appearance, but it's there. Not that it's an issue for us. Edward seems much closer to me maturity-wise than women his age.

"I thought so," Edward chuckles, clearly enjoying his own joke.

"I'll have you know," I sass, completely turned in my seat so that he receives the full brunt of my attitude. "I'm older than Alice."

"Oh, thank God." Edward sighs dramatically. "That means I'm not the nastiest, dirtiest old man in the group."

"No, that title is reserved for Mr. Jasper Whitlock," I chuckle, watching Edward feign relief.

Once he's had his fill of his acting bout, which was severely lacking, if anyone's counting, he schools his features and clears his throat. "Honestly, if you think he's nasty now, you should have seen him back in the Forks Four days."

"So I've heard," I remark, drawing on the frank conversation Alice and I had about Jasper's storied past.

"He really is a saint in comparison to the Jasper Whitlock I once knew." Edward shakes his head, likely revisiting old memories.

"Much to Alice's chagrin," I add.

"Believe me; Jasper is equally as frustrated as she is," Edward supplies humorlessly. "It makes me glad we have this arrangement worked out between us."

There it is. The reminder that keeps me grounded through all of this.

"Same," I respond stoically.

From then on, the car ride passes in relative silence. We're both lost in thought, with me beating myself up for not putting my big girl pants on and speaking up about my feelings, and him ... well, I don't exactly know what he's thinking.

I start to open my mouth to ask when a song I adore comes on the radio. My probing question instantly morphs into, "Oooh, turn this up!"

Smiling faintly, Edward complies.

Lost in the song, I can't help but wiggle in my seat and belt out the lyrics. Edward, clearly amused, watches me out of the corner of his eye as he navigates through traffic.

"What?" I mouth, buckling under the weight of his prolonged stare after sitting for a moment at a traffic light.

"Nothing," he snorts, eyes crinkling with laughter. "You're just really cute."

"Cute," I repeat, frowning at him suspiciously. "Which means you think I'm tone-deaf – thanks, but I already knew this."

Edward just smirks in response before turning to face the road. My jaw nearly unhinges in surprise when he easily slides into the chorus of the song, the warm timbre of his voice filling the small space of the cab. His voice absolutely floors me; it's nothing like the voice I'm familiar with from all those years back.

It's better.

It's uniquely him.

It's low, deep, raspy, and tortured in an edgy, singer-songwriter way.

It has me breathing deep and slow, scared to make any sort of sound that would disrupt his beautiful crooning. He has me hanging on to every word that passes through his pursed lips. I am frozen in enthrallment as he finishes out the song with a final, breathy note and casually signals to turn into the parking lot for the festival at the same time.

"Holy shit," I breathe as he nonchalantly navigates through the parking lot as if he didn't just floor me with his insane voice. "Edward ... that was incredible."

"Mmm," Edward hums thoughtfully. "That voice doesn't sell, though."

"Edward, no," I shake my head vehemently. "Whoever told you that is fucking crazy." My hand finds his as he shifts the car into park. "I'm honestly so stunned right now. I had no idea you could sing like that. I mean, it's so different in comparison to how you used to sing with the band."

"Well, they're different genres," Edward shrugs his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Yes, exactly, and this fits you so much better!" I cry, tightening my fingers around his. "Your voice is so ... so ... textured, and it conveys so much feeling. It's beautiful." I stop myself short of telling him that people desperately need to meet this new version of him. I don't think now is an appropriate time to push that idea.

"Thank you, baby," his eyes crinkle as he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. My breath stutters at his use of endearment. "I'm happy you liked it."

 _Baby._

 _Baby, baby, baby._

I can definitely be his baby.

"Loved it," I correct, breathless as I twist my hand from his to stroke his stubble-roughened cheek. He leans his face into my touch as his deep, green eyes melt. I am transfixed; my lips part, and I sigh, "You are _so_ talented, Edward."

His answering smile is timid, but accepting, and I don't think about how he called this an _arrangement_ as I lean forward in my seat to brush my lips against his.

* * *

 **Hmm, we have B opening up a little bit. We have E calling B pet names. What is going on here? Only time will tell (:**

 **See you next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


	37. Oh Shit

**Hi! Hope you all are having a magical Monday (:** **With the holidays right around the corner, it's time to get into the spirit!**

 **Tis the season to let your creative juices flow as you combine two really freaking amazing things - the Twi fandom and the winter holidays - with the Winterward Card Contest. Submit a photo you think depicts how the lovely, handsome, amazing, sexy Edward Cullen would be celebrating the December holidays (preferably nude, but maybe that's just me). Each entry must have a photo on the front along with a caption or short story no longer than 500 words tying it together. Make your moves stat, people, as submissions close on Friday, December 20! Entries should be emailed to winterward2019 at gmail dot com (removing the spaces and replacing the words with the actual symbols).**

 **For more info (or if you just wanna lurk), join the "Winterward Card Contest 2019" Facebook page (:**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Beta:** Fran

 **2018**

"Well, well, well," Alice chirps, beaming from ear to ear, "look who it is."

Edward and I halt our casual stroll to the festival entrance as Alice and Jasper intercept us. They're both wearing matching smiles; however, Alice is practically vibrating with excitedly anxious energy, while Jasper is all hooded eyes and smirking sex appeal.

"Hey there, you," I can't help but answer Alice's grin with one of my own as I release Edward's hand to wrap her up in a tight hug.

"Oh my god," Alice squeals into my shoulder conspiratorially. After Jasper epically failed at setting up our double date, Alice and I didn't think we'd ever have a moment like this. It's absolutely surreal now that it's actually happening – and so soon after Edward's flat-out denial!

"I know," I reply, conveying my astonishment at the turn of events through my eyes as I gently release her from my embrace. I watch her lift her shoulders in a slight shrug, widen her eyes minutely, and grimace in answer before my attention is commandeered by Jasper's outstretched hand.

"Good to see you again, Miss Bella," Jasper drawls, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. As I grasp his much larger hand in my own, I take a second to size him up. He hasn't changed much since his Forks Four days; he remains tall and thin, with a wide smile and a heavily-freckled boyish face. His signature look remains unchanged, consisting of jeans so tight they seem painted on, tattered band t-shirts, and clunky boots. The only thing that _has_ changed is his hairstyle. The long, blond locks that were once haphazardly tied into a loose, low ponytail have now been replaced by a sloppy man-bun with closely-shaved sides.

I'm usually not a fan of the man-bun, so it pains me to admit that this look really fucking suits him.

"Sober this time," I answer him sheepishly, blinking rapidly in an effort to shake off the haze of attraction he cast over me. The butterflies trapped in my stomach flutter at the sight of him. He may be dating my friend, and I might be sleeping with his ex-bandmate, yet those statements do nothing to diminish the fact that I'm meeting Jasper fucking Whitlock in the flesh.

Angela would literally shit herself if she were here right now; she had _the biggest_ crush on Jasper growing up. So much so that she installed a life-size poster of him in her room, which she would frequently kiss and dance against. Meaning, she'd close her blinds, dim the lights, blast some Forks Four, and rub her ass all over that poster. Now that I think about it, that's fucking mortifying. Then again, it's Angela we're talking about, so ... yeah, she definitely doesn't give a shit about that now. In fact, I think that poster is still hanging in her childhood room, lipstick stains and worn-out crotch on full fucking display.

"Not for long, if I have anything to say about that," Jasper replies, throwing me a cheeky wink for good measure.

Well, someone's flirty. It's no wonder he had a different girl every night during his heyday. I'm sure he'd have no problem doing the same now, and I'm not convinced he doesn't want to, what with the frisky twinkle in his eye and pretty-boy set to his mouth. Everything about him screams sex, sex, sex.

"Yessss!" Alice interrupts my train of thought with her obnoxious exclamation. She circles her arms around Jasper's middle, grinning impishly as she continues. "Let's party!"

It's a wonder how these two have resisted falling into bed together, given how she paws at him and his clear "fuck me" vibe. Today is going to be _very_ interesting.

"Come on, little one." Jasper's face softens, and he leans down to press an adoring kiss to her forehead. "Let's go inside before everyone eats and drinks the place out of supplies."

Edward and I follow behind them, our posture a stark contrast to Alice and Jasper's tightly fused torsos and entwined arms. We simply walk beside each other, not touching, save for the occasional brush of a shoulder. I try not to dwell on that, and instead, hold the tender moment we shared earlier in the car close to my chest as a reminder of how close we really are. It doesn't matter that we don't hold hands or snuggle up like Alice and Jasper do...

Not when he looks at me the way he did in the car.

Not when he answers my kiss with the delicate press of his lips, like he's savoring the feel of me against him. Like he's never felt anything better than the tender joining of our mouths, the warm intermingling of our breaths.

Not when he holds my face to his, nose to cheek as he reverently breathes me in.

My heart thrums in time with the echoes of my memory.

"Bella?" Edward's voice jolts me.

"Huh?" I blink into focus, suddenly aware of his concerned expression.

"I asked if you've been to one of these things before," Edward repeats, brow furrowed. "Where were you?"

"Uhh..." I stutter, face flaming. "The car, earlier," I admit, chewing my lip. "But, no, I've never been to a festival like this."

The corners of his lips lift at my admission, and he steps up close behind me as we slide into place in the line reserved for people with VIP Access tickets. Jasper sprung for them and decided to hook us up, too, after Edward confirmed our attendance. Who am I to say no to unlimited food and drink? Plus, Jasper can definitely afford four tickets at this price, seeing he's a successful talent manager with quite an impressive lineup of well-known musicians under his care.

"It's so fun," Alice assures me, turning to face us as she grins and bounces on her toes excitedly. "You're going to love it, Bella. The food is so freaking good here."

"Just don't eat too much in one place," Edward murmurs close to my ear. His hand burns white hot over my stomach as he holds me in place and firmly presses his front to my back. Moments later, goosebumps rise on my skin, and I hold back a shiver as his warm breath fans over the back of my neck, and his fingers delicately tug a wayward strand of hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear.

The sweet torture continues.

Alice's eyes practically scream at me as she observes this, but, thankfully, she keeps her huge mouth locked tight.

"Good girl," I try to communicate to her through my eyes, and I think she gets the message because she beams proudly in response before turning to whisper something to Jasper. He inclines his head, glancing at us quickly over his shoulder, before shrugging, grinning, and tugging Alice forward in line. Moments later, we reach the front of the queue, where the festival staff quickly scans our tickets, slaps wristbands on us, and ushers us into the fairground that has been converted into a swanky festival.

"This is neat," I chirp, scanning the horizon and taking in the various food and drink stalls set up throughout the fairgrounds.

"Neat?" Alice repeats, face distorted in a frown. "You're such a nerd," she teases. "Who even uses the word _neat_ anymore?"

"My dad, that's who," Jasper supplies, snorting derisively as he seamlessly joins the roast of Bella Swan.

I roll my eyes at them before turning to Edward. "Where to first, boss?"

"I want some pulled pork sliders," Alice interjects in a way that only she can make seem charming. "Sorry, I saw the sign over there, and I got excited."

"Pulled pork sliders it is, then," Edward chuckles. "By all means, lead the way."

"Sorry about Alice," I press closer to Edward as we follow our extremely energetic double date counterparts. "She's kind of rough to deal with if you're not used to her antics."

"She's fine," Edward assures me, squeezing me against his side with one ropey arm. I can't help but preen – on the inside, of course – under his attentions. However, my mental fiesta is cut short when he abruptly releases me once we reach our destination. "Do you want anything? It's my treat." The wink he throws me flirtatiously conveys his joke. His treat? Our VIP, all-you-can-eat festival wristbands say otherwise.

Okay, I can hold off on the dramatics. He's blatantly flirting and offering to order my food for me – that has to mean something, right?

I peruse the menu thoughtfully before settling on a small sandwich and a craft beer. Edward taps my order into his phone notes – "so I won't forget," he tells me as he blinds me with a grin so dazzling my heart nearly stutters to a stop – before striding forward to make the line.

Alice glues herself to my side as soon as he's out of earshot and immediately releases all of her pent up energy and excitement in one long, drawn-out squeal. "Oh, my gahhhd, Bella. I freaking can't with this right now!"

"God, you're too much," I groan, covering my ears in hopes of protecting them from her girlish exclamations. I don't want that annoying shit rubbing off on me.

"I know, I'm sorry! I'm just so excited for you guys. Wait – do you think Edward hates me?" She pauses her diatribe long enough to watch me shake my head reassuringly before launching back in. "Thank God! Dude, I know you guys are in a weird place right now," Alice whisper-yells in an attempt to take it down a notch; yet, despite the decrease in vocal volume, her intensity remains. "But that guy is _so_ into you."

"Stop," I sigh in exasperation. "You know how I feel about this."

"I know, I know," Alice whines. "I was _so_ on board with how you were planning to approach all of this, but Bella, I think we may be going about it the wrong way."

"We?" I can't help but laugh in spite of the doubt that flares up inside me at her assertation.

"Yes, we," Alice nods confidently. "I'm in this with you, Bella. I'm your support system, babe."

 _Babe._

Her endearment brings me back to _baby_ , which releases a whole new round of butterflies in my stomach. The moment unfurls in my mind, and I reverently trace over it, savoring the way he looked at me, held me, kissed me.

Maybe she's right.

"Okay, so, what do you think I should do differently?"

Alice gives me a look that says, "you already fucking know." And I do, but, for some reason, I think I need to hear someone else say it. I need confirmation that it's the right thing to do.

"Be honest with him, Bella." Alice voices my thoughts. "Tell him how you're feeling."

"And how is it that you know what I'm feeling?" I know the answer to this question as well, but it's much the same as the previous one. I want to hear her say it.

"Oh, it's painfully obvious." Alice waves her hand at me, dismissively. "For you, and for him..."

"Is it?" I probe, now extremely interested.

"The way he looks at you," Alice's smile deepens. "It's like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen."

"Stop," I tell her, although I'd prefer if she continues.

"No," Alice is firm with me now. "You need to get your head out of your ass, idiot. You need to look at him. And – I mean – _really_ look at him."

"I do look at him," I'm defensive now. She must be crazy if she really believes I don't look at him. I'm almost obsessive in my staring. It's borderline creepy.

"No, that's not what I mean, and you know it." Alice's brows raise in a challenge. "You need to take off those adoring fangirl lenses and actually look at him. You need to see what he's telling you with his eyes, with his body language."

"Wow," I breathe in response. "When did you get so insightful?"

"Well," Alice smiles softly, dreamily, as her eyes flash naughtily. "Jasper _did_ fuck me into next year last night, so that might have something to do with it."

"Oh my god!" It's my turn to let out a girly squeal. "Fucking finally! I feel like I should get you a card or something."

I guess my ear-covering was for naught. She's clearly rubbed off on me.

"What?" Alice snorts humorously. "Like, congrats on the sex?"

"Yes!" My cheeks flush as I snort unappealingly at the thought of it.

"It's honestly appropriate," Alice's lips quiver with laughter.

"I want to get you a balloon." She deserves it. We should all be celebrating her triumph.

"Aw," Alice grins, punching my shoulder playfully. "You're so sweet."

"Just not too big, or you'll float away," I add, unable to resist throwing in a jab at her small stature.

"Very funny," Alice wrinkles her nose, only slightly amused.

"I thought so." Edward's ism flows from my lips without thought, and it gives me pause. Are we really to the point where we're unknowingly adopting each other's speech patterns and sayings? I've heard about this phenomenon, but have never been consciously aware of it happening to myself.

"Hey," Alice interjects suddenly, humorous tone replaced by mild panic. "Isn't that...?" She trails off, and I follow her line of vision. I see it right as Edward steps up next to me. By then, it's too late; the damage is done.

"Oh, shit," Jasper murmurs, joining our stunned trio and adequately conveying our simultaneous thoughts.

Edward is silent, save for the heavy sigh he releases as he hands me my food. I watch in alarm as he tilts his head back, dumps the contents of his beer down his throat, and crushes the cup in his clenched fist.

"I'll be right back," he tells us gruffly before turning and trudging to the spot; to the person who has drawn all of our attention.

Over his retreating shoulder, I see it; I see her face. I see her eyes, intense with an unfathomable expression. They stare unblinkingly, not at Edward, but at me.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I swallow against the panicked closing in my throat and break free from her unyielding gaze. "Fuck," I breathe out, taking in Alice and Jasper's concerned expressions.

Of course, when everything is going right, and we're seemingly making progress, we have to go and run into quite possibly the worst person.

Irina.

* * *

 **Welp - that was certainly unexpected! What do you guys think? Does this spell trouble for our favorite non-couple, couple?**

 **More next week!**

 **xo**

 **j**


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